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Y ESCAPE 

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ERIC A.KEITH 




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MY ESCAPE 
FROM GERMANY 



M 2 3 4 S 6 7 8 ? l °Milp.; 

-Roilwavs \-^ Highroads X Secondary roads -^ B rooks 
Canals --* "Frontier Route ^P^Swamps \/i°« Forest 




Map illustrating the Route of Author's Escape. 
The Dotted Line shows the Route taken. 



MY ESCAPE 
FROM GERMANY 



BY 

ERIC A. KEITH 




NEW YORK 

THE CENTURY CO. 

1919 



11U7 



Copyright, 1920, by 
The Century Co. 



Published, January, 1920 



aMi 30 io 



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INTRODUCTION 

THERE is an element of chance and risk 
about an attempt to escape from an en- 
emy's country which is bound to appeal to any 
one with a trace of sporting instinct. Viewed 
as a sport, though its devotees are naturally few 
and hope to become fewer, it has a technique of 
its own, and it may be better, rather than inter- 
rupt the course of my narrative, to say here 
something about this. 

As always, appropriate equipment makes for 
ease. But its lack, since a prisoner of war can- 
not place an order for an ideal outfit, may be 
largely compensated for by personal qualities. 

In considering the chances of success or fail- 
ure, it must always be assumed that the route 
leads through a country entirely unknown to 
the fugitive. Yet this is not so great a disad- 
vantage as one might suppose. Once free from 
towns and railways, a man with a certain knowl- 
edge of nature and the heavens, and with some 
powers of observation and deduction, can hardly 
fail to hit an objective so considerable as a fron- 



vi lE'TRODUCTION' 

tier line, even if a hundred miles or so have to 
be traversed, provided he knows the position of 
his starting-point and is favored with tolerable 
weather. 

With the sky obscured, he must at least have 
a pocket compass by which to keep his direc- 
tion; though when the stars are visible it is 
easier and safer to walk by their aid. 

Next in importance come maps. With fairly 
good maps, as well as a compass, the chances of 
evading discovery before approaching the fron- 
tier, with its zone of sentries and patrols, are, 
in my opinion, about even. 

Another indispensable requisite is a water- 
bottle — a good big one. My own belief is that a 
man in tolerable condition — let us say good in- 
ternment-camp condition — can keep going for 
from two to three weeks on no more food than 
he can pick up in the fields. But thirty hours 
without water will, in most cases, be too much 
for him. Under the tortures of thirst his de- 
termination will be sapped. I was, therefore, 
always willing to exchange the most direct route 
for a longer one which offered good supplies of 
water. In my final and successful attempt, 
when I was leader of a party of three and had 
to traverse a part of Germany where brooks and 
streams are rare, I always preferred taking the 



INTRODUCTION vii 

risk of looking for fresh water rather than that 
of being without it for more than twenty hours 
between sources, relying in the meantime on 
what we had in our bottles. 

The more clothing one can take along the bet- 
ter — ^within reason, of course. One is prepared 
to do without a good deal, but food must, if 
necessary, be sacrificed for a sweater and an 
oilsilk. Two sets of underclothing to wear 
simultaneously when the weather turns cold are 
a comfort. Beyond this, any one will naturally 
take such food as can be carried conveniently. 
Chocolate, hardtack and dripping, with a little 
salt, is, in my opinion, as much as one wants. 
Being a deliberate person, I usually man- 
aged to have enough of these in readiness be- 
fore I even thought of other arrangements for 
the start. 

People are very differently gifted with what 
might be called the out-of-door sense, though 
it is strong in some who have never really 
led an out-of-door life. Those who have this 
gift will know almost instinctively where to turn 
in an emergency, and will gather from the lie of 
the land information denied to those without it. 
This raises the question of companionship. 
As I am, fortunately, possessed of a fair share 
of this open-air sense, it was little handicap to 



viii INTRODUCTION 

me to be alone on my first attempt. In fact, as 
long as I was using the railways, it was a dis- 
tinct advantage. At critical moments a man can 
decide more quickly what to do, if he has only 
himself to think of, than when he has to con- 
sider and possibly to communicate with a com- 
panion, who may be contemplating a better but 
quite different solution. To know that it is 
only one's own skin that is at stake gives one 
that promptness of decision which is itself the 
seed of success; the thought of involving an- 
other man in an error easily clogs the swiftness 
of one's action. 

On the march these conditions are reversed. 
One can walk only at night, and the approach of 
actual danger is best met by falling flat and 
keeping motionless, or else taking to one's heels. 
It is under trying conditions just short of the 
actual peril of discovery that the soothing influ- 
ence of a companion is of inestimable advantage. 
Cross-country walking tries one's nervous 
forces to the utmost. Hour after hour passes, 
and no recognizable landmark appears. At last 
one gets the feeling of being condemned eter- 
nally to tramp over fields, skirt woods, and ex- 
tricate oneself from an endless succession of mo- 
rasses. In time the sky seems to reel and the 
compass-needle to point in all directions but the 



INTRODUCTION ix 

right one. It is then that the voice of a friend, 
the touch of his hand, or merely the sound of 
his footsteps behind one, restores the sense of 
normality which, if one is alone, can be recov- 
ered only by a deliberate effort of will "that is 
often very exhausting. 

Before starting I always knew roughly what 
lay before me, and what I had to expect, until 
I met either with success or with complete fail- 
ure by being captured. Even when the chances 
seemed to suggest it, I would never trust blindly 
to mere good luck, which I kept in reserve as an 
absolutely last resource. Once in hiding for 
the day, I usually worked out a detailed plan 
for the following night's walk, and spent hours 
looking at the maps in order to impress on my 
mind a picture, as complete as possible, of the 
country directly in front of me and to each 
side of my route. 

When this book was first published I pointed 
out, that ''It is one of the penalties of an escape 
that, so long as others remain behind, it is im- 
possible for obvious reasons to give too pre- 
cise details, and often the moments one would 
most wish to describe have of necessity to be 
camouflaged from the observation of the en- 
emy." Now that the war is over and there is 
nothing to hinder it, I have been able to aug- 



X INTRODUCTION 

ment my original story with certain details 
originally omitted for reasons mentioned above. 
In its present form the book has been consid- 
erably enlarged and no detail of my escape has 
been omitted. 

E.A.K. 



CONTENTS 



CHAfTEB PAGE 

Introduction . v 



PART I 

I The House of Bondage 3. 

II RuHLEBEN: The Sheep and the Goats 13 

III The Sanatorium 25 

lY Planning the Details 31 

V A Glimpse of Freedom 39 

VI In Hiding 52 

VII Failure 69 

VIII A New Hope 76 

IX Breaking Prison 91 

X Caught Again! 109 

XI Under Escort 120 

XII The Stadtvogtei AND "Solitary" . . 126 

XIII Classes and Masses in the Stadt- 

vogtei , , , . 146 

XIV Prison Life and Officials .... 154 



CONTENTS 
PART II 

CHAPTER PAGE 

XV A Fresh Attempt 179 

XVI From Berlin to Haltern .... 190 

XVII Westward Ho! 202 

XVIII The Game is Up 218 

PART III 

XIX Footing the Bill 233 

XX RuHLEBEN Again 251 

XXI The Day 265 

XXII Order of March 292 

XXIII The Road Through the Night . . . 304 

XXIV Crossing the Ems 319 

XXV The Last Lap 333 

XXVI Free at Last 348 



PAET I 



MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

CHAPTER I 

THE HOUSE OF BONDAGE 

THE date was April 7, 1916. The fat Ger- 
man warder backed out of my cell, a sat- 
isfied smile on his face ; the door swung to, the 
great key clicked in the lock, and I was alone. 

Prison once more! And only a bare three 
miles away was the frontier for which I had 
striven so hard — the ditch and the barbed wire 
that separated Germany, and all that that word 
means, from Holland, the Hook, the London 
boat, and freedom. 

The game was lost. That was the kernel of 
the situation as it presented itself to me, sitting 
on my bed in the narrow, dark cell. 

Vreden, where I thus found myself in prison, 
is a little town hardly three miles from the 
Dutch frontier, in the Prussian province of 
Westphalia. So near — and indeed a good deal 
nearer — had I got to liberty ! 

Twenty-four hours before, my first attempt to 
escape from Germany — which might be de- 



4 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

scribed with some justification as my third — ^had 
failed, and instead of being a free man in a neu- 
tral country, I was still a British civilian pris- 
oner of war. 

Apart from the overwhelming sense of failure 
which oppressed me, I was not exactly physi- 
cally comfortable. To start with, I wanted a 
change of clothing and a real bath. I had not 
had my boots off — except during several hours 
when I was walking in bare feet for the sake of 
silence — for over eight days, and for almost the 
same length of time I had not even washed my 
hands. The change of clothing was out of the 
question. The bath — One does not feel as 
if one has had a bath after an ablution in a 
tin basin holding a pint of water, with a cake of 
chalky soap the size of a penny-piece, and a 
towel which, but for texture, would have made a 
tolerable handkerchief. And no water to be 
spilled on the floor of the cell, mind you ! 

My prison bed was an old, wooden ''civilian" 
one with a pile of paillasses on it, and the usual 
two blankets. It was fairly comfortable to lie 
on, as long as the numerous indigenous popula- 
tion left you alone, which they rarely did. 

The warder — the only one, I believe, in the 
prison — had asked me immediately after my ar- 
rival whether or not I had any money on me. 



THE HOUSE OF BONDAGE . 5 

When lie heard I had not, his face fell. Since 
he conld not make me profitable he made me use- 
ful, and put me to peeling potatoes in the morn- 
ing, a job I liked very much under the circum- 
stances. 

The food in Vreden prison was scanty, barely 
sufficient. I was always moderately hungry, 
and ravenous when meal-time was still two or 
three hours off. Twice in four days I had an 
opportunity of walking for twenty minutes 
round the tiny prison yard, sunless and damp, 
where green moss spread itself in three un- 
trodden corners, while the fourth was occupied 
by a large cesspool. The rest of my time I 
spent alone in my cell, now and again reading a 
few pages of Jules Verne's ''Five Weeks in a 
Balloon, "execrably translated into German and 
lent me by the warder. But mostly I was busy 
speculating about my immediate future, or 
thinking of the eighteen months of my captivity 
in Germany. 

Technically, I was not being punished as yet 
for my escape. I was merely being kept under 
lock and key pending my removal back to 
Euhleben camp or to a prison in Berlin, I did not 
know which. But if it was not punishment I 
was undergoing in the little frontier town, it was 
an excellent imitation of it. 



6 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

Some experiences, exciting when compared 
with the dull routine of camp life, were still 
ahead of me; the journey to Berlin was some- 
thing to look forward to, at any rate. But what 
would happen afterward? I did not know, for I 
flatly refused to believe in solitary confinement 
to the end of the war — the punishment which 
had been suggested as in store for unsuccessful 
escapers. 

I had not escaped from Ruhleben, as my pred- 
ecessors had. I had walked out of a virtu- 
ally unguarded sanatorium in Charlottenburg, a 
suburb of Berlin, where British civilian pris- 
oners of war, suffering from diseases and ail- 
ments which could not be properly combated in 
camp, were treated. Might not this give an 
earnest to a plea which was shaping in my mind? 
Could the Germans be persuaded to believe that 
I had acted under the influence of an attack of 
temporary insanity, caused by overwhelming 
homesickness? True, I had "gone away" well 
prepared; I had shown a certain amount of de- 
termination and tenacity of purpose. On the 
other hand, I had not destroyed any military 
property. Of course, I had damaged a good 
deal of property, but it wasn't military prop- 
erty! A fine point, but an important one, es- 
pecially in Germany. 



THE HOUSE OF BONDAGE 7 

These were the sort of reflections which 
mostly occupied my four days in Vreden prison, 
unreasoning optimism struggling desperately 
against rather gloomy common sense. 

What I looked forward to most in the solitude 
of my cell was a meeting with my old friends in 
Ruhleben camp in the near future. The other 
escapers had all been returned to camp for a 
short time before they were taken to prison, to 
demonstrate to us ocularly the hopelessness of 
further attempts. Surely the Germans would 
do the same with me; and then I should get 
speech with one or two of my particular chums. 
For this I longed with a great longing, although 
I did not look forward to telling them that I had 
failed. 

Only one of them knew the first links in the 
chain of events which connected my sensations 
of the first day of the war with the present, 
when I was restlessly measuring the length of 
my cell, or sitting motionless on the edge of the 
bed, staring with dull eyes upon the dirty floor. 
Under the pressure of my disappointment, and 
without the natural safety-valve of talk to a 
friendly soul, I naturally began to examine my 
experiences during the war, opening the pigeon- 
holes of my memory one by one, reliving an in- 
cident here, revisualizing a picture there, and 



8 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

retracing the whole length of the — to me — most 
important developments leading up to my at- 
tempted escape. 

When the storm clouds of the European war 
were gathering I was living in Neuss, a town on 
the left bank of the Rhine, between Diisseldorf, 
a few miles to the north, and Cologne, twenty 
miles to the south. I had been there a little over 
a year. Immersed though I was in business, I 
was by no means happy. I was distinctly tired 
of Germany, and was on the point of cutting 
short my engagements and leaving the ' * Father- 
land." 

I had turned thirty some time before, and 
hitherto my life, although it had led me into 
many places, had been that of an ordinary busi- 
ness man. In spite of unmistakable roaming 
proclivities, it was likely to continue placidly 
enough. Then suddenly everything was 
changed. 

One afternoon, about the 20th of July, I was 
standing in the enclosure of the Neuss Tennis 
Club, waiting for a game. The courts were 
close to a point where a number of import- 
ant railway lines branched off toward Belgium 
and France. I was watching and wondering 
about the incessant traffic of freight-trains 



THE HOUSE OF BONDAGE 9 

whicli for days past had been rolling in that 
direction at about fifteen-minnte intervals. 
They consisted almost exclusively of closed 
trucks. 

Another member of the club pointed his racket 
toward one. ''War material. Soldiers!"' he 
said succinctly. With a sinking heart I gazed 
after the train as it disappeared from view. 
The political horizon was clouded, but surely it 
wouldn't come to this! It couldn't come to 
this. It was impossible that it should happen. 

The police, always troublesome and inquisi- 
tive in Germany, seemed to be taking some un- 
accountable interest in me. Nothing was fur- 
ther from my mind than to connect this lively 
interest in an obscure individual like myself 
with anything so stupendous as a war. 

And then it happened. War was declared. 

I was warned not to leave the town without 
permission. I was eating my head off in idle- 
ness and anxiety. I hoped to be sent out of the 
country at short notice, but the order to pack up 
and be gone did not come. Instead, I was in- 
vited to call upon the inspector of police at 
9 A.M. on the 27th of August. I obeyed. An 
hour later I was locked up in a cell of an old, 
evil-smelling, small prison. I did not know for 
what reason, beyond the somewhat incompre- 



10 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

hensible one of being a British subject. Nor 
did I know for how long. The inspector of po- 
lice had answered my questions with an Oriental 
phrase : It was an order ! 

It appeared that the order referred to Brit- 
ishers of military age only, which, according to 
it, began with the seventeenth and ended with 
the thirty-ninth year. Thus it came about that 
I made the acquaintance of three out of the six 
Englishmen then temporarily living in Neuss, 
but hitherto beyond my ken. They were all fit- 
ters of a big Manchester firm, Messrs. Mather 
& Piatt Ltd., employed in putting up a sprinkler 
installation in the works of the International 
Harvester Co., an American concern in Neuss. 

We were treated comparatively well in prison. 
Nevertheless, the days we had to pass in that 
old, evil-smelling house of sorrows were inter- 
minable. Most of our time we spent together, 
in a locked-up part of the corridor on the second 
floor. Outside it was glorious summer weather. 
All our windows were open to the breeze, which 
never succeeded in dispersing the stench per- 
vading the whole building. Sitting on the un- 
comfortable wooden stools, or walking idly 
about, we smoked incessantly, read desultorily 
in magazines and books, and talked spasmod- 
ically. And always the air vibrated with the 



THE HOUSE OF BONDAGE 11 

faint, far-away, half-heard, half-sensed mut- 
tering of distant guns. The news in the Ger- 
man newspapers was never cheering to us. 

As suddenly as we had been arrested we were 
released from prison after eleven days, and con- 
fined to the town. 

There followed nine weeks of inactivity and 
endless waiting. For the first time I gave a 
fleeting thought to an attempt of making my 
way out of Germany by stealth. It hardly 
seemed worth while, as we were ''sure of being 
exchanged sooner or later"! Twice I left the 
town for a few hours. On my return I always 
found the police fully conversant with every one 
of my moves, which showed how carefully they 
were watching me. Having always provided 
excellent explanations for my actions, I escaped 
trouble over these escapades. 

As announced beforehand in the German 
press, we were arrested again on November 6, 
1914. We passed four cheery days in the old 
familiar prison, and then came the excitement 
of our departure for Ruhleben camp, via Col- 
ogne, where we and a hundred and fifty other 
civilian prisoners, collected from the Rhine 
provinces, spent a night in a large penal prison. 

Under a strong escort we were marched to the 
station at seven the following morning. Before 



12 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

starting we liad been told that there was only- 
one punishment for misbehavior on transport — 
death ! Misbehavior included leaving the ranks 
in the streets or leaning out of the windows 
when in the railway carriages. 

Entraining at eight o'clock, we did not reach 
our final destination until twenty-three hours 
later. The first hour or so of our journey was 
tolerable. We were in third-class carriages. 
Having had hardly any breakfast, and no tea or 
supper the previous day, we soon became hun- 
gry and thirsty. But we were not even allowed 
to get a drink of water. Whenever the train 
drew into a station, the Red Cross women 
rushed toward our carriages with pots of coffee 
and trays of food, under the impression that we 
were Germans on the way to join our regiments. 
But they were always warned off by uniformed 
officials: '^ Nothing for those English swine." 
We were evidently beyond the pale of humanity. 

At 2 A.M. we disembarked at Hanover station, 
to wait two hours for another train. Here a 
bowl of very good soup was served out to us. 

At 7 A.M. on the 12th of November our train 
drew up at a siding. We were ordered roughly 
to get out and form fours. It was dark and 
cold. A thin drizzling rain was falling. 
Hardly as cheerful as when we left Neuss, we 
entered Ruhleben camp. 



CHAPTER II 

euhleben: the sheep and the goats 

RUHLEBEN! A ride in a trolley car of 
fifty minutes to the east, and one would 
have been in the center of Berlin. Toward the 
west the town of Spandau was plainly visible. 
Shall we ever forget its sky-line — the forest of 
chimneys, the tall, ugly outlines of the tower of 
the town hall, the squat ''Julius" tower, the 
supposed "war treasury" of the Germans where 
untold millions of marks of gold were alleged to 
be lying! 

Before the war the camp had been a trotting 
race-course, a model of its kind in the way of 
appointments. Altogether, six grand stands, a 
restaurant for the public, a club-house for the 
members of the Turf Club, administrative build- 
ings, and eleven large stables, all solidly built of 
brick and concrete, illustrated German thor- 
oughness. 

These buildings, except the three smaller 
grand stands, clustered along the west and south 
sides of an oval track, which was not at first 
included in the camp area. 

13 



14 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

Since the beginning of the war the restaurant, 
the ''Tea House" as it was called, at the ex- 
treme western end, and the large halls under- 
neath the three grand stands next to it had been 
used to house refugees from eastern Prussia. 
Then, an assorted lot of prisoners of war and 
civilians interned, preponderantly Russian but 
with a sprinkling of British and French sub- 
jects, had taken their place. A few Russians 
were still there when we arrived but evacuated 
very soon after. Their departure made the 
camp exclusively British. 

We were given breakfast. It consisted of a 
bowl of so-called coffee and a loaf of black bread. 
The bread was to last us two days. Then we 
were marched to our palatial residence. Stable 
No. 5. We set to work to remove the plentiful 
reminders of the former four-legged inhabitants 
and installed ourselves as best we might. 

The stables contained twenty-four box-stalls 
and two tiny rooms for stable personnel on the 
ground floor, and two large hay-lofts above. 
Six men to a box-stall was the rule, and as many 
as could be packed into the lofts. I had experi- 
ence in both quarters, for I slept in the loft for 
more than a week, and then moved into "Box 
No. 6," where a space on the floor had become 
empty. My new quarters were, at first, much 



THE SHEEP AND THE GOATS 15 

less attractive than the loft. They offered, how- 
ever, greater possibilities for improvement. 

For six weeks we slept on a stone floor cov- 
ered by an inch or so of wet straw. We had 
just room enough to lie side by side. We could 
turn over, if we did so together. The ''loftites" 
slept on boards with straw on top of them. 
Later we all got ticks into which we could pack 
the wet and fouling straw. To start with, there 
was no heating. Then steam-radiators were in- 
stalled, and during this winter and the three 
following, the stone barracks were heated in a 
fitful kind of way. The locomobile boilers 
which furnished the steam, one for each three 
or four barracks, delivered it into the radiators 
from 10 A.M. to 12 noon and from 3 to 5 p.m. 

At last the '^boxites" received bedsteads. 
They consisted of a simple iron framework with 
three-quarter-inch boards as mattresses. On 
these we placed our ticks. The bed uprights 
had male and female ends which permitted the 
building of as many superimposed bunks as 
seemed practicable. Two sleeping-structures 
of three bunks each was the rule in the boxes. 

The food we received from the Germans was 
insufficient at any time. The allowance per man 
for rations was sixty-five pfennigs per day — 
sixteen cents at the pre-war rate of exchange. 



16 MY ESCAPE FEOM GERMANY 

It was contracted for at this price by a caterer. 

WMle food in Germany was plentiful we could 
buy additions to our rations at the canteen. 
This became gradually impossible. We didn't 
mind that much, as parcels containing food and 
other necessities, but mainly food, began to ar- 
rive from England in ever-increasing number. 
Relatives of prisoners, the firms they had been 
working for, and trade-unions or other organi- 
zations to which they belonged started the ball 
rolling. But when the real need of the pris- 
oners became known in Blighty, special organi- 
zations for the purpose of assisting them sprang 
up everywhere. As they were independent of 
one another their work to a great extent over- 
lapped. The majority of the civilians interned 
received too much; here and there a man re- 
ceived nothing at all. Through the action of the 
British Government the work of the individual 
societies was coordinated in November, 1916. 
From that date, the Order of the Red Cross and 
St. John was in charge of all of the relief work 
for prisoners of war, and each prisoner re- 
ceived six parcels of food per lunar month, not 
counting two loaves of white bread per week. 

As far as my experience goes, the German 
authorities made an effort to have these parcels 
reach their destination. During the latter part 



THE SHEEP AND THE GOATS 17 

of my imprisonment deliveries became some- 
what irregular. Food was scarce at that time 
in some parts of Germany and commanded very 
high prices, and the theft of parcels naturally 
increased. 

Euhleben camp was administered, at first, by 
the German officers in charge, with the help of 
the interned. In the spring of 1916, all of the 
internal affairs of the camp were placed in the 
hands of the interned themselves, the Germans 
confining themselves to guard duties and general 
supervision. 

Much has been published about prisoners' 
camps in Germany. Horrible stories have been 
told about them, and these are in the main quite 
true. But camps differed from one another; 
nor were the conditions in a given camp always 
the same. I 'm not suggesting gradual or 
steady improvement. But, just as camp com- 
manders and regional military commanders dif- 
fered, so did the treatment of their charges dif- 
fer. As prisoners of war the men in Euhleben 
camp were a pretty lucky lot. The choice flow- 
ers of Kultur bloomed elsewhere. 

In the beginning of our internment hopes of a 
speedy exchange to England ran high, and so did 
rumors concerning it. They helped us to en- 



18 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

dure the hardships of the first few months, hard- 
ships which might have proved even less toler- 
able than they did without some such sheet- 
anchor of faith. 

In spite of the misery of the first winter, how- 
ever, the majority of the pro-English portion of 
the camp would at any time have refused a 
chance of living ''free" in Germany under the 
conditions we experienced previous to our in- 
ternment. This certainly was the prevailing 
opinion among my friends, as it was mine. In 
camp, at any rate, we could wag our tongues, 
and speak as we listed, if we took only ordinary 
precautions. We had congenial companions, 
and shared our joys and discomforts. As long 
as our health remained tolerable, who would 
not have preferred this to liberty among Ger- 
man surroundings? But when illness came 
upon us — and few escaped it altogether — it was 
rather a tough proposition. 

The colonial Britishers were not at first con- 
sidered to come under the heading '^Eng- 
lander." Probably the Germans were waiting 
for the disruption of the British Empire and 
intended to further it by partial treatment 
of men from our colonies, for they let them 
remain at liberty until the end of January, 1915. 



THE SHEEP AND THE GOATS 19 

It was then that the colonials arrived in 
Euhleben. 

Later came the separation of the sheep from 
the goats ! There was trouble in camp. It had 
started in a ridiculous manner. A young lad 
had been overheard saying something about 
''bloody Germans," and this had been reported 
to the authorities by one of their spies. Ger- 
man self-esteem was horribly hurt, the more so 
as they misunderstood the epithet and inter- 
preted it as "bloodthirsty." Whispers of im- 
pending trouble had reached us, and we were 
not astonished when, one morning — I believe in 
February or March, 1915 — the alarm bell 
sounded the "line up." Each barracks sepa- 
rately formed up in a hollow square in front of 
its dwelling-place. And each barracks was ad- 
dressed separately by the camp commander, 
Baron von Taube. He was in a perfect frenzy 
of rage when our turn came. Our barracks was 
one of the last spoken to, and how he managed 
to keep up the performance after so many repe- 
titions is a thing I cannot easily understand. 

"We shall be the victors in this war thrust 
upon us by your country!" he shouted at us. 
"And here and now I fling your own expression 
back into your faces. Bloody Englishmen I call 



20 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

yon! Bloody Englishmen!" He thumped his 
chest like a gorilla about to charge. He came 
near to foaming at the mouth. So far it was 
merely amusing. Then came the order: **A11 
those who entertain friendly feelings toward 
Germany fall out and hand in your names." 

Our barracks was rather a mixed one, many of 
its inhabitants being pro-German in sentiment. 
In addition, good and loyal men all over the 
camp, whose financial interests were entirely in 
Germany, became panicky and went over to the 
other side in the futile hope of saving their 
property. When they had gone to the office, 
we others were dismissed. Excitedly we dis- 
cussed what had happened. Many of us were 
deeply disturbed. They were those who 
thought they had flung their all into a well, as it 
were, by standing still when the pro-Germans 
fell out. But we all hoped that the others 
would be quartered apart from us. 

Unfortunately that was not the case. They 
came back and lived among us for some time, 
their presence giving rise to many a quarrel. 

Some months afterward another separation 
of the sheep from the goats took place, much 
less dramatically, and this time the pro-Ger- 
mans were quartered all by their sweet selves 
at one end of the camp. 



THE SHEEP AND THE GOATS 21 

In April, 1915, two men escaped from the hos- 
pital barracks, situated outside the barbed-wire 
enclosure, and but carelessly yarded. One of 
them became a great friend of mine later on. 

When these two men escaped, I was playing 
with the idea myself. It was a very fine spring. 
In the afternoons I used to sit on the uppermost 
tier of the big grand stand. High up as I was, 
the factory buildings and chimneys toward the 
west, where Spandau lay, appeared dwarfed; 
and gazing across with my book on my knees, I 
had a sense of freedom. I used to dream ex- 
travagant dreams of flights in aeroplanes with 
Germany gliding backward beneath my feet, 
with the fat pastures of Holland unrolling from 
the horizon, with the gray glint of the sea ap- 
pearing, and the shores of England lying rosy 
under a westering sun. And then, coming down 
to realities, I began seriously to speculate upon 
the chances of ' ' getting through. ' ' 

I soon came to the conclusion that a compan- 
ion was desirable, a good man who spoke Ger- 
man well, as I did ; a man with plenty of common 

sense about him. I found one in April, T , 

a native of the state of Kansas. Lack of money 
made an early attempt impossible. I had 
enough for myself, but my friend was dependent 
upon the five shillings per week relief money 



22 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

paid by the British Government to those who 
had no resources of their own, I could not get 
hold of sufficient money for the two of us at 
once, so I set myself to accumulate gradually 
the necessary amount. 

But the summer passed, the leaves began to 
turn yellow, and my pocket-book still contained 
less than I thought necessary. 

In June of that year a successful escape from 
camp and from Germany by Messrs. Pyke and 
Palk set us all talking and wondering. Then, in 
quick succession, two serious attempts by a 
couple of men each failed. News was allowed 
to reach us that they would be kept in solitary 
confinement until the end of the war. This in- 
human punishment was not actually put into 
effect, but the unfortunates got five months' and 
four and a half months' solitary confinement 
respectively, and after that indefinite detention 
in prison. 

My companion and I heard only about the 
first sentence. It somewhat staggered us; but 
we decided that, as we did not intend to be 
caught, the punishment ought not to deter us, 
and that if we were caught we could stick it 
out as well as the next man. 

The days were growing shorter, the nights 



THE SHEEP AND THE GOATS 23 

colder, the boughs of the trees barer, and con- 
ditions generally more unfavorable, and still 
we hung on. Then the military authorities 
began doubling the number of wire fences 
around the camp and erecting plenty of extra 
light-standards in the space between them. 
Also, the number of sentries was increased. 
All this decided us to have "a shot at it" there 
and then, before the additional fences were com- 
pleted. 

We had hoped for an overcast sky. Instead, 
the full moon was bathing the camp in light. 
Feeling anything but comfortable, we walked up 
to that part of the wire fence where we intended 
to scramble over. We were just getting ready, 
when a sentry came around the corner of the 
barracks outside the wire. We had never ob- 
served the man on that beat before. He 
stopped short, and his rifle came to the ready. 
* 'We're camp policemen, if he asks," I whis- 
pered to my companion. Lingering a moment 
as if in conversation, we then walked slowly 
away. We decided not to try again that night. 

The next morning I was disgusted with my- 
self and all the world. I talked it over with my 
companion, and he agreed with me that it was 
*'no go" that year. Another week of light 



24 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

nights would see the wire fences completed and 
the season so far advanced that the odds would 
be too heavy against us. 

For some days I chewed the bitter cud of dis- 
appointment. Then I told my friend that I 
should be glad to go with him, if he had an op- 
portunity, but that in the meantime I should 
take any chance, if one came to me, alone. He 
expressed approval. 



CHAPTER III 

THE SANATORIUM 

TOWARD the end of November an old 
Scotsman, a member of my barracks 
(No. 5), was returned to camp from the sana- 
torium in Charlottenburg. I questioned him 
about the place. It appeared that no desperate 
illness was necessary to get there, as long as one 
was willing to pay for oneself instead of coming 
down upon the British Government funds ordi- 
narily provided for that purpose. 

This institution was a private medical estab- 
lishment known as Weiler's Sanatorium. The 
camp administration, by now in our own hands, 
had made arrangements with the proprietors to 
receive and treat such cases of illness or ill- 
health as could not be treated adequately in 
camp, where the accommodation in the infirm- 
ary, measured on civilized standards, was of the 
roughest. 

Having a big scar on my left thigh, the only 
reminder of a perfectly healed compound frac- 
ture many years old, I believed sciatica a likely 

. 25 



26 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

complaint to acquire. Except in extreme cases 
no observable changes take place in the affected 
limb, and the statement of the patient is the only 
means of diagnosis. Forthwith I developed a 
gradually increasing limp. With it I got 
grumpy and ill-tempered, the limp preventing 
me from taking my usual exercise, and this soon 
had its effect. 

At regular and short intervals I went to see 
the doctor. To start with, I got sympathy from 
him, and aspirin. But nothing did me any good, 
though I admitted to an occasional improvement 
when the weather was fine and dry. At last I 
was taken into the Schonungsharache and 
put under a severe course of sweating. I stuck 
it out, but came dangerously near throwing up 
the sponge before I was released at the end of 
a week of it. By that time I had made up my 
mind that my s'ciatica ought to be cured, at least 
temporarily. 

I kept away from the doctor for some time, 
but after a fortnight, during which my limp had 
gradually increased again, I was back in the sur- 
gery. He admitted that under camp conditions 
a lasting cure, even of a mild case like 
mine, was hardly to be thought of; but since 
the Schonungsbaracke was full, there was 
nothing for me "but to stay in bed as much as 



THE SANATOEIUM 27 

possible" and to swallow aspirin. This treat- 
ment suited me excellently well. 

I kept hanging about the surgery complaining 
mildly until the first days of February, when the 
weather was rotten. I had a serious attack 
then. I knew the Schonungsbaracke to be still 
full, and this gave me the opportunity of 
asking to be transferred for treatment to the 
sanatorium. 

My case being considered urgent, I left the 
camp the same afternoon, accompanied by a 
soldier and a box-mate of mine who had volun- 
•teered to carry my luggage — for I was unable, 
of course, even to lift it. With somewhat min- 
gled feelings I looked my last upon Euhleben 
for many a long day. 

My new home had originally been intended for 
nervous cases only — a private lunatic asylum, to 
put it bluntly. The arrangement with the camp 
authorities for the treatment of all kinds of ail- 
ments among a population of over four thou- 
sand was taxing its capacity to the utmost. So 
many of our men were there at this time that 
they not only filled the original institution but 
were housed and treated in several dwellings 
leased by the proprietors in addition to the 
asylum. 

This was a large building with an extensive 



28 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

garden at 38 Nussbaum Allee, Charlottenburg. 
The appellation "Nussbaum Allee" distin- 
guished it from the other houses, of which 
there were four, if I am not mistaken. I forget 
their names, however, with the exception of 
*' Linden Allee." 

There were two classes of patients, whose 
food and accommodation differed according to 
the amount they paid, or which was paid for 
them by the British Government through the 
American Embassy. First-class treatment cost 
at that time twelve marks per day exclusive of 
medicines and special treatment. Without ex- 
ception the expense had to be defrayed by the 
patient himself. In the second-class eight 
marks per day was charged. Neither class 
could expect private bedrooms for this, except 
where infectious ailments or other medical rea- 
sons made separate rooms imperative. 

I had offered to pay my own expenses, to 
avoid delay by having my case referred to the 
American Embassy. It was a matter of indif- 
ference to me what class I was put into. The 
points of comfort I was looking for were easily 
opened windows, etc. I liked fresh air at any 
time, but now was particularly impressed by a 
theory of mine, that fresh air could be admitted 
in sufficient quantities only by windows not 



THE SANATORIUM 29 

too high from the ground and large enough to 
admit, or rather to give exit to, a fairly bulky 
man. 

The windows looked all right, but, from my 
point of view, they were not. They had dia- 
mond panes set in cast-iron frames ; and even if 
they opened, a dog could not have got out of the 
aperture. All the corridor doors were kept 
constantly locked. There was no passing from 
one part of the building to another without the 
help of a warder or a nurse. The idea of hav- 
ing to sleep in the same room with six or eight 
people, one or two of them seriously ill, did not 
appeal to me. One of them was always sure to 
be awake at night. Straightway I applied for 
first-class treatment, for this would get me sent 
to the ''Linden Allee Villa," where these luna- 
tic-asylum precautions would probably be ab- 
sent. 

I was taken there in the course of the follow- 
ing morning. My assumption proved correct, 
for things were different. Twelve patients 
nearly occupied the available accommodation. 
The staff consisted of only a nurse and three 
servant girls, and no military guard was about 
the place. The biggest bedrooms contained 
three beds. A garden surrounded the house, ac- 
cessible through at least three doors and a 



30 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

number of windows of the ordinary French 
pattern. A low iron railing separated the gar- 
den from the streets, which in this part of the 
town were very wide, and which frequently had 
two causeways, lined with trees, and divided by 
stretches of lawn and thick shrubbery. 

Not far from "Linden Allee" a big artery ran 
right into Berlin. 



CHAPTER IV 

PLANNING THE DETAILS 

THE outlines of my plan of escape had been 
conceived almost a year before in Ruhle- 
ben, and had remained unaltered. 

Generally speaking, the chances of success 
were so small that I was convinced it could be 
achieved only by the elimination of every un- 
necessary risk, and with a considerable amount 
of good fortune thrown in to make up for the 
unavoidable balance on the wrong side. 

It must be remembered that we civilians were 
interned right in the center of Germany. There 
were three neutral countries to make for : Den- 
mark, Holland, and Switzerland, distant from 
Ruhleben in that order. My choice fell upon 
Holland, which, from information I had ob- 
tained, seemed to offer the best opportunities. 

Denmark, being only about a hundred and 
fifty miles away, had at first appeared very 
tempting. But the difficulty of crossing the 
Kiel Canal, the extraordinarily close watch kept 
all over Schleswig-Holstein and the frontier, 
lack of information about the state of affairs 

31 



32 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

along the Baltic coast, and the obvious difficulty 
of making a passage in a stolen boat to the 
nearest point on the Danish coast, twenty-five 
miles away, decided me against this plan. 
Switzerland was about six hundred miles dis- 
tant, and the railway journey, with its attendant 
dangers, correspondingly long. Also, we had 
heard that part of the Swiss frontier, at least, 
was impregnably guarded. There remained 
Holland, about four hundred miles away. 

In view of my thorough knowledge of Ger- 
man, I did not believe the railway journey an 
impossible undertaking. It appeared more 
feasible, at any rate, than the four-weeks' 
tramp to the frontier with what scant food one 
could carry. Up to the last moment I tried to 
get information as to whether special passports 
were necessary for traveling on a train, and 
whether they would be inspected on taking the 
ticket, or during the journey. I had contra- 
dictory accounts about this. 

Having arrived at the sanatorium, I very soon 
made up my mind to the following mode of pro- 
cedure : A stay at the ' ' Linden AUee ' ' until the 
30th of March would give me about four weeks 
in which to recruit my health, which was none 
of the best after a grueling winter in camp. 
Then, with a new moon on the 1st of April, a 



PLANNINa THE DETAILS 33 

succession of dark nights would be. favorable 
for my purpose. On account of the weather, it 
might become advisable to delay the start a day 
or two; but if exceptionally wintry conditions 
should be prevailing then, a postponement until 
the moon had again changed through all her 
phases would become necessary. Trying to im- 
agine conditions near the frontier, I had come to 
the conclusion that with snow on the ground, 
giving a considerable range of vision even dur- 
ing the darkest hours of the night, a successful 
passage through the sentry lines would be out of 
the question. On the other hand, the nights 
would be much shorter at the end of April, and 
this made me nervous lest such a postponement 
should be forced upon me. The task of getting 
out of the sanatorium and making my way into 
Berlin did not trouble me at all. It was as easy 
as falling off a log. Such of my things as I 
should deem necessary or very desirable for the 
exploit, I was going to take with me in a small 
leather Gladstone bag. 

From newspapers I had learned that a 
train left Berlin for Leipzig at 7 a.m. My ab- 
sence would probably not be discovered before 
the first breakfast, served in bed at 7:45 a.m. 
Thus I could be a good many miles away when 
the alarm reached headquarters. 



34 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

Leipzig was not on my direct route toward 
the Dutch frontier, but it appeared very attract- 
ive as my first objective, partly for that reason. 
It is a big place, and a man could easily pass in 
the crowd there for a day, while the shops would 
allow me to complete my equipment with a com- 
pass and maps. 

In Berlin the sale of the latter was prohibited 
except with a permit from the army corps com- 
mander. This ordinance was savagely enforced 
and probably strictly observed. Leipzig — the 
center of the German printing-trade, and, in the 
Kingdom of Saxony, not in Prussia — was the 
place where one could hope to obtain them, if 
anywhere. 

In another way the fact of Leipzig being in a 
different state was in my favor. Any efforts 
of the Berlin police to recapture me would very 
likely be retarded if the case had to be handed 
over to a distinct and independent police organ- 
ization. 

I hoped that when I arrived in Dortmund, 
some time during the morning following my 
escape from the sanatorium, I could make my 
way by slow trains to the small town of Haltem. 

This is situated in the northwestern corner of 
the province of Westphalia on the northern 
bank of the river Lippe. The nearest part of 



PLANNma THE DETAILS 35 

Holland from there is only twenty-five miles 
distant as the crow flies, and no river of any size 
intervenes, an important consideration for the 
time of year I had fixed upon. Moreover, it is 
nowhere near the Ehine. As I had lived in the 
northern part of the Rhine province, the danger 
of being accidentally seen by a former acquaint- 
ance bade me keep away from that district. 

There remained the smaller details of my plan 
to work out, file, and put together. Some of 
them were planned and executed before I left 
camp. For example, I had grown a beard dur- 
ing the winter 1915-16. This altered my ap- 
pearance and lent itself to another alteration, 
back to the original. I bethought myself in the 
"Linden Allee" that the Germans would prob- 
ably expect me to shave it off. A good reason 
for not doing so. 

The universal practice of the Boches in both 
civil and military camps was to mark all the 
clothing of prisoners of war so distinctively that 
the status of the wearer could be recognized at a 
glance, if ever he got away. These marks con- 
sisted at first of stripes of vivid color painted 
down the seams of their trousers and around 
their arms, and fancy figures, circles, triangles, 
etc., on their backs. Later, stripes of brown ma- 
terial were sewn into the trousers and sleeves, 



36 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

the original material having first been cut av/ay. 
This practice never obtained in Ruhleben, 
where we were allowed to wear what we liked. 
During two winters in camp I had made use of a 
very strong and warm suit of Manchester cord. 
It was now considerably the worse for wear, 
bleached by sun and rain and darkened again by 
mud and grease, rather conspicuous in its state 
of dilapidation, and, in camp, very distinctly 
connected with me. For months I had kept 
hidden in my trunk an inconspicuous gray jacket 
suit. When I went to the sanatorium it was 
packed away under other things at the bottom 
of my hand-bag. All the time at the villa I wore 
my cord suit, explaining that I had no other 
clothes, but was waiting for some on the way 
from England. I must have cut a very queer 
figure among my companions, but any one 
among them could conscientiously swear, after 
my departure, that I must have left in a brown 
cord suit, for, obviously, I had no other. The 
good ulster overcoat I intended to make use of 
could hardly give me away. Probably half a 
million similar ones were being worn in Ger- 
many at that time. 

After the first week in March, winter set in 
again and held the land for a fortnight. Then, 



PLANNING THE DETAILS 37 

abruptly, spring burst upon us — ^that glorious 
early spring of 1916 with its long succession of 
sunny, warm days and crisp, starlit nights. 

A change in the number and distribution of 
the inmates had left me with only one companion 
in our bedroom. He was confined to bed with 
heart disease. I became rather nervous lest my 
unexpected disappearance and the following in- 
evitable investigation should upset him. To 
minimize this possible shock I took him into my 
confidence. 

As ^'the day" approached I got my things 
ready as unobtrusively as I could, gradually 
packing my small grip and finally destroying 
letters and private papers. It was then that my 
room-mate showed the first signs of unfeigned 
interest. 

''Why," he exclaimed, suddenly, ''so you 
meant it, after all! Pardon my having been 
incredulous so far, but I've heard so many fel- 
lows talk about what they intended to do, with- 
out ever seeing anybody doing it that I didn't 
quite realize you were the exception that proves 
the rule. Don't worry about me, and the best 
of luck to you. ' ' 

The limp with which I had arrived at the san- 
atorium I had gradually relinquished as I an- 
nounced improvements in my condition. It was 



38 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

to be resumed on the journey as a sort of dis- 
guise, an unasked-for explanation for my not 
being in the army. 

I had put aside some food, namely, a big Ger- 
man smoked sausage, still obtainable though 
very expensive, and containing a considerable 
amount of nourishment, a tin of baked beans, 
some biscuits, some chocolate, and a special anti- 
fatigue preparation. A green woolen shirt, a 
thick sweater, two pairs of socks, an extra set of 
underclothing, a stout belt, and a naval oilskin, 
filled the bag almost to the bursting-point. 
Watch, electric torch, knife, and money were to 
be carried on my person. 

About this time my first monthly account was 
due from the sanatorium. I dared not ask for 
it, neither could I leave without paying. Apart 
from the moral aspect of vanishing and leaving 
an unsettled bill behind, such an act would cer- 
tainly have resulted in criminal proceedings 
against me for theft or larceny, in the event of 
my being captured, and, according to the Ger- 
man application of the law where Englishmen 
were concerned, as certainly in conviction with a 
maximum sentence. So I decided to leave 
enough money in a drawer of my dressing-table 
to cover my bill. 



CHAPTEE V 

A GLIMPSE OP FEEEDOM 

CONTRAEY to my expectations, I hardly- 
felt any excitement during my last day at 
the "Linden AUee." My mental attitude was 
rather a disinterested one, as if I were watching 
somebody else's escape. 

When I got into bed at the usual time, I im- 
mediately fell asleep, having first made up my 
mind to wake at 3:30 a.m. I awoke an hour 
sooner, and went to sleep again. It was close 
on four o'clock when I opened my eyes for the 
second time. Getting up noiselessly, I carried 
the Gladstone and a big hand-bag containing my 
clothes, boots, etc., into the bath-room on the 
first floor. There I lathered my shaving brush 
and shaved a few hairs off my left forearm, 
leaving the safety-razor on the washstand, un- 
cleaned, to create the impression that I had 
shaved off my beard. I dressed as rapidly as I 
could, throwing my pajamas on the floor and 
leaving generally a fair amount of disorder be- 
hind me. A breathless trip to the loft of the 
house to conceal my cord suit behind some beams 

39 



40 MY ESCAPE FEOM GERMANY 

was executed with as much speed and caution 
as I could manage. With my bag in one hand 
and my boots round my neck, I descended again 
by the light of the electric torch, slipped into my 
overcoat in the hall, and, snatching my hat from 
the rack, entered the dining-room. From there 
a French window gave upon a porch to which a 
few steps led up from the garden. The window 
offered no resistance and, fortunately, the pro- 
tecting roller-blind was not down. A few 
women, probably ammunition workers, passed 
the house, and when they were out of hearing I 
stepped out. 

It was still dark, though the dawn was 
heralded in the east. In a spot previously se- 
lected for the reason that it was screened by 
bushes, and from which I could survey the street 
without being seen, I got over the fence. I had 
barely done so when a cough sounded some dis- 
tance behind me. With a chill racing up and 
down my spine, I walked on. Turning the near 
corner, I threw a hasty glance over my shoulder, 
but could see no one. Nevertheless, I thought 
it wise to walk back on my tracks around several 
blocks, before I made for the big thoroughfare 
which led toward Berlin. 

A number of people were about, men and 
women, going to work. Keeping on, I came 



A GLIMPSE OF FREEDOM 41 

after a lapse of about fifteen minutes to a station 
of the Elevated. It was now five o'clock. 

When I went up the steps to the booking-hall, 
night was slowly withdrawing before the van- 
guard of the approaching day. The electric 
lights in the streets flashed once and were dead. 
In the station they were beginning to show pale 
and ineffective. 

To my relief, people were entering the station 
with me. Obviously, there was a service of 
trains thus early, though I had been in doubt 
about it till then. The taking of a ticket to 
Friedrich Strasse Station, one of the chief sta- 
tions in Berlin, cost me some agitation. It 
meant the first test of my ability to "carry on." 

''Friedrich Strasse! Ten minutes to six! I 
must find the restaurant and have breakfast." 
There is no sense in neglecting the innner man; 
no experienced campaigner will voluntarily 
risk it. 

Friedrich Strasse was a most uncomfortable 
place to be in. It swarmed with soldiers, and 
its intricate passages and stairs were plastered 
with placards: ''Station Provost Marshal," 
"Military Passport Office," "Passports to be 
shown here, " " For Military only. ' ' 

At last I found a snug little waiting-room and 
restaurant, where I got a fairly decent meal, in- 



42 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

eluding eggs, which at the time were still ob- 
tainable without ration-cards, and rolls, for 
which I ought to have delivered up some bread- 
tickets, but did n't. As soon as I had a chance, 
I bought a newspaper and some cigarettes. 
Either might help one over an awkward mo- 
ment. 

The train for Leipzig left from a station I 
knew nothing about except the name. The easi- 
est way for me to get there was by cab. A num- 
ber of these were standing in front of Bahnhof 
Friedrich Strasse. 

''Anhalter Bahnhof," I said curtly to the 
driver of the first four-wheeler on the rank. 
Cabby mumbled something about Marke 
through a beard of truly amazing wildness. 
Then only did I recollect that it is necessary be- 
fore taking a cab from a station rank in Berlin 
to obtain a brass shield, with its number, from 
a policeman stationed inside the booking-hall. 
Back I went, overcoming as best I might the 
terrifying aspect of the blue uniform close to 
me. Fortunately, the man was extraordinarily 
polite for a Prussian officer of the law, and in- 
quired solicitously what particular kind of cab 
I should like, and whether it was to be closed 
or open. It was to be closed. 
I had twenty minutes to spare after I 



A GLIMPSE OF FREEDOM 43 

alighted from the cab in front of my destination. 
This station appeared less crowded than the for- 
mer one, although a considerable number of sol- 
diers were in, or passing through, the big hall. 
The moment had come when one of the main 
points of my plan was to be put to the test. 
Could I obtain a long-distance ticket without 
a passport? I waited until several people ap- 
proached the booking-office, then lined up behind 
them. One of them asked for a second-class 
ticket to Leipzig, and got it without any formal- 
ity. I considered myself quite safe when I re- 
peated his demand. 

The train, a corridor-express, was crowded. 
The hour was early for ordinary people, and no- 
body seemed in the least talkative. To guard 
against being addressed, I had bought enough 
German literature of the bloodthirsty type to 
convince anybody of my patriotic feelings, but I 
hardly looked at it. I was too much interested 
in watching the country flashing past the 
window and in speculating upon what it would 
be like near the Dutch frontier. 

At Leipzig, where we arrived at 9 :30 a.m., I 
had my little Gladstone taken to the cloak-room 
by a porter, to give more verisimilitude to my 
limp. For the same reason I made it my first 
business to buy a stout walking-stick at the 



44 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

nearest shop. After that I got a good luminous 
compass, whose purchase was another test case. 
When it was treated as an everyday transaction 
by the man behind the counter my spirits rose, 
and the acquisition of maps appeared a less for- 
midable undertaking. Nevertheless, I resolved 
to leave their purchase to the afternoon. 
Should I find that suspicion was aroused by my 
request for ''a good map of the province of 
Westphalia," I intended to nip away on the 
earliest train, if I could reach the station un- 
arrested. 

The rest of the morning I spent limping 
through the town, keeping very much on the 
alert all the time. The tortuous, narrow streets 
of the inner town, with their old high-gabled 
houses in curious contrast with the modern 
buildings and clanging tram-cars, were a delight 
to me as well as a difficulty ; the latter in so far 
as I had to keep account of my whereabouts, the 
better to be able to act swiftly in an emergency. 
Gradually I got into more modern streets, wide 
and straight. In passing I had made a mental 
note of a likely-looking restaurant to have lunch 
in later on. 

At last I found myself in a public park, where 
I rested on a seat for some time. A shrewd 
wind, which whistled through the bare branches 



A GLIMPSE OF FREEDOM 45 

of the trees, made me wrap myself tighter in my 
greatcoat. 

I started to walk back to the restaurant at 
midday, following for the greater part of the 
way in the wake of three fat and comfortable- 
looking burghers, who were deciding the war 
and the fate of nations in voices loud enough for 
me to follow their conversation, although thirty 
paces behind. In the restaurant I had a meal, 
somewhat reduced in quality and quantity, for 
a little more than I should have paid in peace 
times. Over a cigarette I then started to look 
up my evening train in the time-table I had 
bought at the station. Unable to find what I 
wanted, I grew hot and cold all over. I had by 
no means speculated upon having to stay in any 
town overnight, and should not have known how 
to act had I been forced to do so. This question 
had to be settled there and then, so I went to the 
station and the inquiry office. I was told that I 
could get a train at 7:50 or 8 p.m. — I for- 
get which — to Magdeburg, and from there catch 
the express for the west to Dortmund. 

The first part of the afternoon I spent in sev- 
eral cafes, unhappy to be within four walls, yet 
wanting to rest as much as possible. Toward 
five o'clock I nervously set forth to buy the maps 
and some other less important things. I passed 



46 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

several booksellers' shops with huge war-maps 
displayed in the windows, but my feet, seem- 
ingly of their own volition, carried me past 
them. When I finally plucked up enough 
courage to enter a shop, my apprehension 
proved quite unnecessary. I came away with 
a fine motor-map and another one, less useful 
generally but giving some additional informa- 
tion. After that the rest of my equipment was 
rapidly acquired: a pair of night binoculars, 
wire-clippers, a knapsack, a very light oilskin, 
and a cheap portmanteau to carry these things 
in. By a fortunate chance I saw some military 
water-bottles in a shop window, which reminded 
me that I had nearly overlooked this very im- 
portant part of a fugitive's rig-out. I got a 
fine aluminum one. 

By this time it was getting dark. The best 
way of spending what remained of my time in 
Leipzig was to have a leisurely meal in the sta- 
tion restaurant. 

While I was waiting to be served, a well- 
dressed man at a table opposite attracted my 
attention. He came into the room soon after 
me, and seemed to take a suspicious interest in 
my person. He stared at me, openly and other- 
wise. When he did the former, I tried to out- 
stare him. After he had twice been worsted in 



A GLIMPSE OF FEEEDOM 47 

this contest he kept a careful but unobtrusive 
watch over the rest of the people in the res- 
taurant, but took no further notice of me, not 
even when I crossed the room later on to buy at 
the counter as many sweet biscuits and as much 
chocolate as I dared. After that I sat reading a 
book with a lurid cover whereon a German sub- 
marine was torpedoing a British man-of-war 
among hectic waves. Taking advantage of the 
short-sightedness implied by my glasses, I held 
it close to my eyes, so that onlookers might have 
the benefit of the soul-inspiring cover, and look 
at that instead of my face. 

A porter, whom I had tipped sufficiently to 
make it worth his while, came to fetch my 
luggage and see me into the train, where I had a 
compartment to myself. As soon as we were 
moving, I executed a wild but noiseless war- 
dance to relieve my overcharged feelings, and 
then had my first good look at the maps. 

At Magdeburg I had only a few minutes to 
wait for the express to Belgium, which was 
to arrive at midnight. It turned out to be split 
into three sections, following each other at ten- 
minute intervals. I took the first of the trains. 
The second-class compartment I entered was oc- 
cupied by an officer of the A. M. C. and two non- 
commissioned officers. The latter soon left us, 



48 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

having bribed the guard, so it seemed, to let 
them go into the first-class. In this way the 
medical officer and I had the whole compartment 
to ourselves. We lay down at full length, and I 
slept with hardly an interruption until 4 :30, half 
an hour before the train was due at Dortmund. 

At Dortmund the waiting-room I went to 
was almost empty. I left my luggage in the 
care of a waiter, and went out to have a wash 
and brush-up. This expedition gave me an op- 
portunity to learn something about the station 
before I got a fresh ticket. I saw that to do this 
I should have to pass ticket-gates which were in 
charge of an extraordinarily strong guard with 
fixed bayonets. The importance of Dortmund 
as a manufacturing town, coupled with its situa- 
tion in the industrial district of the West, the 
vulnerable point of Germany, explained these 
precautions. 

Back in the waiting-room, a liquid called cof- 
fee and a most unsatisfactory kind of war bread 
had to take the place of a Christian breakfast. 
From the time-table I learned that there was a 
local train to Wanne at about 6:30. It just 
missed connection with another one from Wanne 
to Haltern, if I recollect rightly. The prospect 
of having to wait over two hours in a small town 
on the edge of the industrial district, before I 



A GLIMPSE OF FREEDOM 49 

could get a train, was not particularly inviting, 
but there was no alternative. My ticket was 
taken only at the last minute; then Dortmund 
was left behind. 

For most of the way to Wanne I traveled in 
the company of two young civilians, massively 
built and pictures of health. When they 
had left I hastily packed my impedimenta in the 
new portmanteau, leaving the Gladstone empty, 
with the intention of depositing it in a cloak- 
room as the best means of getting rid of it with- 
out leaving a clue. 

Having arrived at Wanne at eight o'clock, I 
handed my two pieces of luggage in at the cloak- 
room window, asking for a separate ticket for 
each. 

The man behind the counter, to whom I took a 
great dislike from that moment, stared at me in 
silence for some seconds, until I could no longer 
stand it, and started a lame explanation: I 
wanted to leave the small bag for a friend of 
mine to fetch later on from whom I had bor- 
rowed it in the town about a week ago, name of 
Hugo Schmidt, The other I would take away 
with me as soon as my business in Wanne was 
finished. The fib sounded unconvincing enough 
to my own ears. The wooden face of my 
antagonist on the other side of the window gave 



50 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

no indication of thoughts or emotions. All that 
mattered really was that he gave me two 
tickets, and that I found myself in the street 
still unarrested but feeling unaccountably hot. 

Walking as briskly as my limp would permit, 
I wandered about the streets, diving into a 
factory yard here and the hall of an office build- 
ing there, as if I were a commercial traveler, 
taking good care not to linger long enough for 
other people to become interested in me. 

All the time I felt uncomfortable and dissat- 
isfied with my performance at the station and 
the pretense I was putting up, and thus it came 
about that the photograph of a friend of mine 
in Ruhleben disintegrated under my fingers in 
my pocket, to be dropped bit by bit into the road, 
lest, if I were arrested, the original should get 
into trouble. 

It was a relief when ten o 'clock was past and 
train-time approached. I got my portmanteau 
from my friend in the cloak-room, who was for- 
tunately busy with other people, and got into an 
empty compartment. Between stations, during 
the twenty-minute run, I looked at my maps, to 
form an idea of how best to get out of Haltern in 
the right direction. 

This small town is about half a mile from the 
station, which is an important railway junction. 



A GLIMPSE OF FREEDOM 51 

I was quite unacquainted with this part of the 
province of Westphalia. The maps showed it 
as not too thickly populated, with plenty of 
woods dotted all over it, and plenty of water. 

The train thundered over the big railway 
bridge crossing the river Lippe and drew into 
the station, and I, feeling pretty good, landed 
on the platform with something like a skip and 
a jump, until I recollected my leg. Then slowly 
I limped after the other people the train had 
disgorged. In front of me I could see the 
church steeple rising above the roofs of the com- 
pact little town in the middle distance. Half- 
way toward it I passed a detachment of English 
Tommies sitting on top of a fence, smoking 
pipes and cigarettes. About an equal number 
of Poilus were standing close to them, laughing 
and criticizing the appearance of the passing 
women. The only guard I could discover was 
leaning sleepily against a tree on the opposite 
side of the road. I suppressed an almost over- 
whelming desire to exchange greetings, and 
passed them instead with a stony stare. 



CHAPTER VI 

IN" HIDING 

IT was a sunny, warm day, and there was no 
difficulty about finding one's bearings. In 
the market-place a sign ' ' To Wesel" directed me 
up a narrow street of humble dwellings on my 
left. Just outside the town a number of roads 
met. Without looking at the directions on a 
mile-stone, I surveyed the country before me for 
suggestions as to my next move. The most 
important thing was to get to cover as quickly 
as possible, and to withdraw from the sight of 
man. Never mind about striking the right route 
now. That could wait until a thorough study of 
the maps gave me a better grasp of the situa- 
tion. The most favorable-looking road led 
past a number of cottages and then ran in a 
northwesterly direction between a low range of 
hills. A footpath branching off toward a copse 
on my left seemed to offer the double attraction 
of a solitary walk and a short cut to a hiding- 
place. It took me about a hundred yards along 
the rear of the cottages, and then rejoined the 

52 



IN HIDING 53 

parent road at a point where the woods came 
down to it. 

As soon as a corner of the oopse sheltered me, 
I gave a last look up and down the deserted 
road, and a moment later the branches of the 
half -grown firs closed crackling behind me. 

Loaded as I was with a thick overcoat and a 
heavy bag, I was fairly bathed in perspiration 
before I had penetrated sufficiently far into the 
thicket to feel safe. The branches were so in- 
terlaced that only the most realistic wormlike 
wriggle was effective as a means of propulsion, 
and even then progress was accompanied by a 
crackling noise which I was anxious to avoid. 

Satisfied at last, I stood up and looked about 
me. From the pin-pricks of light toward the 
east, I concluded that the spot I stood on was 
not far from the margin of the copse where it 
bordered upon a plowed field. On all other 
sides was a dead wall of brown and green. Un- 
derfoot the ground was sopping wet, for the 
spring sun had no power as yet to penetrate 
down to where the brown needles and a tangle of 
black and moldering grass of last year's 
growth would soon be covered by the shoots of 
the new spring. Wet and black, the lower 
branches of the young trees were things of the 
past, but higher up they stretched their arms 



54 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

heavenward clothed in their dark green needles. 
The tops of the firs were glistening like green 
amber where they swayed slightly in the clear 
sunlight, forming delicate interlacing patterns 
beneath the pale spring sky. 

Resting and preparing for my night's walk, or 
poring over my maps, I spent the day there. A 
mouthful of food now and again was all I could 
swallow, for I was parched with thirst. The 
fast walk in the warm sun had started it, and the 
knowledge that there was no chance of assuag- 
ing it before the small hours of the next morning 
made it worse. I had not dared to fill my water- 
bottle at any of the stations for fear of being 
seen and arousing suspicion. 

Most of the day my ears were continually on 
the alert, not so much from fear of discovery as 
for sounds which might convey useful informa- 
tion. The road leading past my hiding-place 
seemed little used ; the rumble of a cart reached 
me only very occasionally. From the shrill 
cries of playing children, and the cackling of 
hens, I surmised the existence of several farm- 
houses farther along. 

Before lying down I had put on my second set 
of underwear and discarded my white shirt, col- 
lar, and tie, for a green woolen shirt and a dark 
muffler, which did away with any but neutral col- 



IN HIDING 55 

ors on my person. Oilskins, oilsilks, overcoat, 
food, etc., were to be packed in the knapsack on 
breaking camp. "Whatever would be wanted 
during the march, such as compass, maps, elec- 
tric torch, and a small quantity of biscuits and 
chocolate, I stowed away in convenient pockets. 
The maps I cut into easily handled squares, dis- 
carding all the superfluous parts. When the 
sun had disappeared and gloom was gathering 
under the trees, I slung the water-bottle from 
my belt, the binoculars from my neck, and then 
crept to the edge of the copse, there to wait for 
the night. 

Concealed behind some bushes, I watched the 
road, which gradually grew more indistinct. 
The roofs of the town, huddled in the hollow, 
lost their definite outlines. One after another 
lights sprang up behind the windows. The chil- 
dren's voices became fewer, then ceased. 
Sound began to carry a great distance ; the rum- 
ble of a railway train, the far-away barking of a 
dog. Twinkling stars came out in the heavens. 
It was time to start. 

At 8 :30 I scrambled out of my hiding-place 
and gained the road, where I set my face toward 
the west after a last glance at Haltern with its 
points of light. Two farmhouses, perfectly 
dark even at this early hour of the night, soon 



56 MY ESCAPE FEOM GERMANY 

lay behind me. Here the forest came down to 
the road on my left while fields bordered it on 
the right, and, perhaps eighty yards distant, the 
wooded hills arose. Whether it was a sort of 
sixth sense which gave me warning, I do not 
know, but a strong feeling that I was not safe on 
the road made me walk over the fields into the 
shadow of the trees, from where I could watch 
without being seen. My figure had hardly 
merged into this dark background, when silently 
a shadowy bicycle rider flitted along the road, 
going in my direction. He carried no lamp, and 
might have been a patrol. 

The going on the plowed fields being rather 
difficult, I soon grew impatient of my slow prog- 
ress and returned to the road, proceeding along 
it in perfect serenity henceforth. It rose grad- 
ually. Checking its direction by a glance at the 
stars now and again, I soon noticed a decided 
turn to the northwest. This proved beyond 
doubt that it could not be the turnpike to Wesel, 
which throughout its length ran due west. 

After perhaps an hour of hard going, a sign- 
post loomed ghostly white through the darkness, 
to spring into sharp relief in the light from the 
torch. ''Klein Reckon 21/2 hours," it read. A 
consultation of the map then showed that I was 
on a far more favorable road than I had antici- 



IN HIDING 57 

pated, and that a brook flowing close to the 
hither side of the village of Klein Recken might 
be reached at about midnight, if I kept my speed. 
I needed no further inducement. 

I was now ascending the last spur of the hills 
which had fronted me on coming out of Hal- 
tern. My way lay mostly through woods, with 
occasional clearings where the dark outlines of 
houses and barns showed against the sky. Only 
occasionally was a window feebly lit as if by a 
night-light. Often dogs gave warning of my 
approach and spread the alarm far and wide. 

It was a most glorious night, the sky a velvet 
black, the stars of a brilliancy seldom seen in 
western Europe. Their luster seemed in- 
creased when I found myself hedged in by a tall 
forest through which the road wound as through 
a canon. A bright planet hung fairly low just 
in front of me, and in the exuberance of my feel- 
ings I regarded it as my guiding star. 

On the ascent the night air was deliciously 
cool, not cold, with occasional warmer puffs 
laden with the scent of pines, the unseen 
branches and sere leaves of which whispered 
softly. Seldom have I felt so great a sense of 
well-being as I had during the first hours of that 
night. Never again while I was in Germany — 
whether in camp, in prison, or on other ventures 



58 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

— did I feel quite so happy, so free from all 
stress, so safe. 

Just before coming to the top of the ridge I 
found another sign-post pointing one arm into 
the forest as the shortest route to Klein Recken. 
The light of the torch revealed a narrow foot- 
path disappearing into impenetrable blackness. 
I eased myself of my knapsack and rested for 
ten minutes, eating some biscuits and chocolate, 
which made me more thirsty than ever. It must 
have been colder than I thought, for on resuming 
my burden I found it covered with -a thin sheet 
of ice. 

Striking into the footpath, I found a rather 
liberal use of the torch necessary. The path de- 
scended steeply at first, then more gradually. 
The tall timber changed to smaller trees and 
thickets. An occasional railway train rumbled 
in the distance ; yet for over an hour the country 
was empty of human dwellings. Then several 
houses, widely apart, announced the neighbor- 
hood of a village. A tinkling sound made me 
lengthen my already swinging stride until I 
stood on a stone bridge. The low murmur of 
water below was very pleasant in my ears. But 
that was not the only sound. Something was 
stirring somewhere, but my dry tongue and 
throat would not be denied any longer. Clam- 



IN HIDING 59 

bering over a barbed-wire fence into a meadow, 
I looked for a place from which I could reach 
the stream, which had steep banks. Engaged in 
tying my water-bottle to my walking-stick to 
lower it into the water, I heard footsteps ap- 
proaching. The darkness was sufficient con- 
cealment, and I merely kept motionless as two 
men crossed the bridge, one of whom, from the 
scraps of talk I could distinguish, appeared to 
be the village doctor, who was being fetched to 
a patient. 

When they had gone, I lowered my water- 
bottle. It seemed a very long time filling, the 
bubbles breaking the surface with a wonder- 
fully melodious sound. And then I drank and 
drank, filled it again, and almost emptied it a 
second time. When I turned away, it was hang- 
ing unwontedly heavy against my hip. 

In front of me was Klein Eecken. The road 
I had been following up to now terminated here. 
It was miles to the north of where I expected to 
be at this time, when I started O'ut, but that much 
nearer to the frontier. My plans for the night 
had been upset by my getting on this favor- 
able road, nor could I look at my maps. The use 
of the torch so near to habitations was out of 
the question. I had a pretty good idea, how- 
ever, of what I should have seen, had I dared. 



60 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

A railway line ran through the village. After 
crossing this, I should have to trust to my guid- 
ing star and to my ability to work across-coun- 
try. 

Instead of the level crossing I was looking for, 
I came unexpectedly upon a tunnel in a very 
high embankment. With bated breath I tiptoed 
through, more than half expecting to meet a 
sentry on the other side. The footpath which 
emerged from it proved an unreliable guide. It 
soon petered out and left me stranded in front 
of a barbed-wire fence and a ditch. The cross- 
country stretch was on. 

The going over plowed fields was easy in 
comparison, but they formed only a part of the 
country I was traveling over. Frequent 
patches of forest forced me to skirt them, with 
time lost on the other side to make the necessary 
corrections. Repeatedly I sank half-way to 
my knees into slough and water. Several casts 
were often necessary to get round these places, 
for, overgrown with weeds, and in the darkness, 
the swampy pieces looked like firm meadows. 
For a time, a sort of wall formed of rough 
stones accompanied me, with marshy ground on 
one side and forest on the other. It seemed to 
run in all directions. As soon as I lost it, I 
came upon it again. I kept going as fast as 



IN HIDING 61 

possible all the time; yet hour after honr 
passed, and still the bewildering procession of 
woods and fields, swamps and meadows con- 
tinued. 

A phenomenon of which I was ignorant at the 
time, but which is well known to sailors, kept me 
busy conjecturing. It is an impression one gets 
at night, on level ground, or a-t sea, that one is 
going decidedly up-hill. In my case this intro- 
duced a disturbing factor into my calculations 
as to my position. 

After tacking through a forest over checker- 
board clearings the meaning of which was hid- 
den from me, for they were hardly paths or 
roads, I came out upon a path, and heard water 
bubbling out of the bank on my right. ''More 
haste less speed. Take it easy," I murmured 
to myself, dropping the haversack. Then I 
bent down to the spring and, having drunk as 
much as I needed, and eaten a mouthful of food, 
I did some of the hardest thinking of my life. 

So far as I recollect, my watch showed just 
3:20 A.M. I went minutely over all my move- 
ments since leaving Klein Eecken. Although 
the road, which I expected would lie across my 
course, had not yet materialized, I was confident 
that I had kept my direction fairly well. It was 
the impossibility of calculating one's speed 



62 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

across-country which caused the uncertainty as 
to my whereabouts. 

Fortunately, there was no doubt that a turn- 
pike was not many miles to the north of me. To 
reach it, and thus ascertain my position, meant 
leaving the present route to the frontier. With 
less than two hours of darkness before the dawn, 
which would force me into hiding, the former 
factor was of far greater importance than the 
latter. 

My nerves had been getting a little shaky un- 
der the stress. I had to press my hands to my 
head in order to think logically, and to exert all 
my will-power to keep my heart steady. Oh, 
for a companion ! The effort cleared my brain 
and soothed me. I was almost cheerful when I 
went on. 

Opposite a farmhouse, the path divided and 
my way became a miry and deeply rutted cart 
track. Past another farm, it entered a swampy 
meadow through a gate and disappeared. Sav- 
age at being tricked again, I wheeled round to 
look for the other fork of the track, but was ar- 
rested by seeing a light in the window of the 
farmhouse where a big dog had given the alarm 
when I passed. This was the last straw. 
Clenching my teeth, I crouched behind the 
hedge, an insensate fury making my ears sing. 



IN HIDING 63 

For the moment, having lost all control of my- 
self, I was more than ready to meet man or dog, 
or both, and fight it ont on the spot. But that 
feeling passed quickly. 

The noise of a door being opened came to my 
ears. A lantern was borne from the house and 
obscured again. Another door opened, and the 
footsteps of a horse sounded on cobbles, fol- 
lowed by the jingling of harness. Then a cart 
started out into the dark. Where a cart could 
go there must be a road; so I followed after, 
stumbling over ruts and splashing through pud- 
dles, and running when the horse broke into a 
trot. 

The cart drew up in front of a building, of 
which I could see only patches of the front wall 
where the lantern light struck. Followed the 
noise of heavy things dumped into the vehicle. 
Then it started again — back toward where I was 
standing. Thoroughly exasperated, I turned on 
my heel and walked back over the road I had 
come, careless whether I was seen or not. I 
soon drew away, tried to work round in a cir- 
cle, and presently came upon a road once more. 

What a relief it was to feel even ground 
under my feet ! A little way farther on, and a 
sign-post pointing in opposite directions along 
the road, read: ''Klein Eecken 8 Km., Heiden 



64 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

2 Km." Out with the map. There was the 
road, which I had overlooked entirely so far, 
as it was very faintly marked. With satisfac- 
tion I saw that I had kept my direction ad- 
mirably; but it was annoying to perceive that 
my course had lain parallel to it all the time, 
probably never more than a mile away. Mak- 
ing for the village, only about twenty minutes 
ahead, I could in good time reach a desolate, 
high plateau, where cover very likely could be 
found. 

In Heiden, a compact little village, my foot- 
falls rang loudly in the cobbled streets. There 
was no sign of life about the place, and special 
precautions seemed entirely superfluous. I 
walked past the church and struck right into the 
high road I was looking for, which was easily 
recognizable by its direction and the fact that 
it began immediately to ascend the plateau. 

The worst of my troubles over for the night, 
the fact that I was tired, not so much muscularly 
as mentally, became only too apparent as I 
trudged along. I started talking to myself, imi- 
tating tricks of speech of my late companions at 
the sanatorium, and making up whole dialogues. 
This continued as long as I followed the turn- 
pike mechanically, although I was perfectly 



IN HIDING 65 

aware of the absurdity of my behavior and tried 
to stop it. 

The sky was now paling in the east, and about 
two miles out of Heiden I started to look for 
cover. For three quarters of an hour I kept 
leaving the road for likely-looking woods, al- 
ways to find farmhouses concealed behind them. 

Several times, while I was standing among 
the trees, and peering anxiously about me, 
white-robed figures appeared to execute weird 
dances between the trunks, only to dissolve into 
nothing on my approach to investigate them. 
Friends of mine had similar experiences to re- 
late, when later on we met in prison and 
swapped yarns about our adventures. 

The light was increasing apace, when a tall 
pine wood loomed up on my left. Bursting 
through the bushes fringing it, I proceeded a 
little way in, until I came to a deep, dry ditch 
marking its margin, and fairly effectively con- 
cealed by bushes. I had the fir woods on my 
left ; on my right was a patch of land bounded 
by a wire fence and grown over by small firs and 
thornless furze. A little farther up, some of 
the furze had been cut and was lying on the 
ground. An examination of the stumps showed 
them black and weathered; there was no sign 



66 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

of recent work. Beyond the wire fence, and 
across a plowed field, a farm lay more than half 
concealed in its orchard. 

Gathering as much as I could of the furze in 
my arms, I carried it to a place where the ditch 
was particularly deep and well concealed. Two 
trips sufficed to provide me with the necessary 
amount. Arranging the furze in the approved 
fashion, lengthways and across, I soon had an 
excellent spring-mattress in the bottom of the 
ditch. Undressing, I donned the dry sweater 
next my skin, and put all the garments I had by 
me over it, for the air was bitingly cold. 

A last deep draft from the water-bottle, 
a careful wriggle to get on my couch, and I 
fell asleep instantly. 

I awoke without a start, and with every sense 
alert, after barely two hours, wonderfully re- 
freshed and not in the least stiff. The sun was 
low in the sky and shone like a big red disk 
through the morning mist. Pale-golden shafts 
of light penetrated into the pillared hall under- 
neath the dark green dome of the majestic firs. 
It was very cold, but to me it appeared only 
like the refreshing sting of a cold bath. With- 
out going to sleep again, I lay motionless, every 
muscle relaxed, while the sun climbed higher. 



IN HIDING 67 

As it did so, the air grew warmer, the scent of 
the pines became stronger, while the earthy 
smell of the ground suggested the new life of 
•spring and the stirring of sap in the growths 
around me. 

Toward eleven, an early bumble-bee paid me 
a visit of inspection, and took himself off again 
after the bungling fashion of his tribe. The 
cooing of wood-pigeons close to me assured me 
of my perfect solitude. Once a kestrel flashed 
across the ditch and disappeared with a startled 
twist of wings and tail on catching sight of me. 
The roar of guns miles away seemed louder 
and louder, but the sound was not near enough 
to merit any attention on my part. 

When the ditch was in the full light of the 
sun, I rolled out of my coverings to spend a 
most glorious day in perfect contentment, eat- 
ing a little, husbanding my water as well as I 
could, smoking, and looking at my maps. The 
next night I hoped would see me across the bor- 
der. I meant to pass through a village about 
four miles down the road, and — but that does 
not matter. What mattered was that I forgot 
that the day was Saturday, and that people 
would be likely to remain about much longer 
than on ordinary week-days. 

The shadows were meeting in the shelter of 



68 MY ESCAPE FEOM GERMANY 

the woods when I worked my way back to the 
road. Tiny night-prowlers were already fol- 
lowing their business and either scampered nois- 
ily away, or froze into the immobility of fear, 
as my clumsy feet crashed through their do- 
main. Prom behind some bushes close to it I 
watched the white ribbon of the road until it 
was almost blotted out by the darkness, and then 
set forth. 



CHAPTEE VII 

PAILUKE 

MY water-bottle wanted filling. A spring 
bubbling up by the roadside gave me the 
opportunity. That was a mile or so down the 
road. I had got again into the swinging stride 
of the night before, and the few miles to the 
village of Vehlen were soon covered. A sudden 
turn of the road near it brought me opposite a 
building looking like a flour-mill. An electric 
light was blazing at its corner. On the other 
side of the road its rays were reflected by the 
oily ripples on a large pond, the farther side of 
which was hidden in the darkness. 

Perhaps the strain and loneliness of the last 
few days were telling upon me without my 
being aware of it. At any rate, I did not realize 
that the light was a danger-signal flaunted by 
Providence into my very face. It never oc- 
curred to me that on seeing it I ought to get 
off the road at once and work around the 
village across-country. Instead, with the expe- 
rience of last night at the back of my mind, 
I held on stubbornly and never realized my 

69 



70 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

folly until I was fairly in the main street. 

Most of the houses were lighted and a 
number of street lamps going. Several people 
were passing between houses. It was too late 
to turn back when I saw what I had done. Two 
old men in front of me, whom I had caught up 
with, caused me to adapt my pace to theirs so 
as not to pass them. They turned a corner, 
I after them, when from the opposite direction 
a bicycle appeared. The rays of its lamp 
blinded me. I dared not look back when it had 
passed, but hurried on as fast as I could short 
of running. After an eternity of a few minutes 
somebody jumped otf a bicycle at my shoulder, 
having come up noiselessly from behind. He 
touched me. 

' ' Who are you 1 ' ' An armed soldier stood be- 
fore me. 

I gave a name. 

*' Where do you come from?" 

*'I belong to Diisseldorf . " 

"So. Where do you come from now I" 

"From Borken." 

"But you are not on the road from Borken!'^ 

I knew that, but no other name had occurred 
to me. What I ought to have said was "Bo- 
cholt," I think. 

"I am not bound to follow what you call the 



FAILURE 71 

direct road, and, anyway, what do you mean 
by stopping me and questioning me in this 
fashion?" 

''Where are you bound for?" 

For want of anything better, I created the 
imaginary country house of an imaginary noble. 

''Don't know it," said the soldier, eyeing me 
doubtfully and scratching his head. 

By this time a crowd had collected around 
us. Additions to it, mostly children, were 
shooting full speed round the nearest corners, 
as I saw out of the corner of my eye, helm hard 
a-port and leaning sideways to negotiate the 
turn. But I was already hemmed in by four 
or five stalwarts. Outside the crowd a small 
man was dancing excitedly up and down de- 
manding that I be taken before the Amtmann, 
the head of the village. This man turned out 
to be the village doctor, the cyclist who had 
passed me. "What a disagreeable, foxy face 
the chap has," flashed through my mind. The 
soldier was obviously still in doubt about me, 
but was overruled in spite of all the arguments 
I could think of. 

With the soldier by my side, two stalwarts 
in front and three behind, and surrounded by 
the throng, I was marched through the streets. 
We drew up before a farmlike building, and po- 



72 MY ESCAPE FKOM GERMANY 

litely but firmly I was urged to enter. "We 
went into a big room on the ground floor. Two 
desks, several chairs and tables, and file cab- 
inets made up the furniture. A telephone was 
attached to the wall next the door. 

A young man jumped up from his chair in 
front of one of the desks, and he, and those who 
had entered with me, regarded me suspiciously 
for a moment without speaking. Then the 
young man — he seemed a clerk — caught sight of 
the binoculars half concealed under my coat 
lapels. With the shout, *'He is a spy!" he 
rushed upon me, and with a quick movement of 
his hand tore open my coat and waistcoat. 

''Here, keep your dirty paws off me!" I 
grunted angrily. 

He stepped back. At this moment the Amt- 
mann came in, a young and gentlemanly looking 
chap. My assailant at once collapsed in a chair, 
and tried to assume a judicial attitude with 
pen in hand and paper in front of him. Then 
they searched me, and the fat was in the fire. 
There was, of course, no sense in continuing 
the bluffing game, when maps, compasses, and 
some letters addressed to me in Ruhleben were 
on the table. I had carried the latter as addi- 
tional evidence of my identity for the British 
consul, should I get through. What they did 



FAILURE 73 

not find was my British passport. That was 
cunningly, I think, and successfully concealed. 

The business part of the performance being 
over, they became more genial. The Amtmann 
asked me whether or not I was hungry. ''No." 
Should I like a cup of coffee? "I should, and 
a smoke, please." With the aid of two cups of 
coffee and three of my cigarettes, I pulled my- 
self together as best I might. 

The soldier who had stopped me was in the 
highest of spirits about the big catch he thought 
he had made, and obviously wanted all the credit 
to himself. Perhaps he expected the usual leave 
granted for the apprehension of fugitive pris- 
oners of war, and the ten or fifteen marks of 
monetary recognition. In his anxiety to estab- 
lish his claim, he forgot all about the indecision 
and hesitancy he had shown to start with. 

"I knew you immediately for an Englander! 
That nose of yours!" 

I have the most ordinary face and nose, 
and I am of no particular type, but I nodded 
with deep understanding. 

"Where did you intend crossing the fron- 
tier?" he rattled on. 

I pointed it out to him on the map lying on 
the table. 

"You 'd never have got across there," he 



74 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

vouchsafed triumpliantly, ^'In addition to the 
ordinary sentries and patrols, there are dogs 
and cavalry patrols at that point, and to the 
north of it." 

If only I could have got that information un- 
der different circumstances! 

''What beautiful maps you 've got, and what 
a fine compass! Would it — would it — would 
you think me cheeky if I asked you for it as a 
memento?" 

Considering that it would be lost to me any- 
way, I expressed my pleasure at being able to 
gratify his desire. And then the Amtmann 
gave me to understand that it was time to be 
locked up. 

The interview at the office had lasted some 
time, and the noses which had flattened them- 
selves against the outside of the windows had 
decreased in number. Still, there was a fairly 
strong guard of adults and children to accom- 
pany us to the village lockup. 

This was a small building consisting only of 
one floor. Here I observed for the first time an- 
other small man with sharp features who un- 
locked the door. It was, of course, dark about 
us, and at this distance it is difficult to deter- 
mine what I saw then and what I learned in 
the course of the following day. 



FAILURE 75 

We entered through a big door into a place 
where a fire-engine — a hand-pump — ^was stand- 
ing. A door on the left having been unlocked, 
the Amtmann and the small man preceded me 
through it. The light of their electric torches 
revealed a cell, with a sort of bed along one 
side, consisting of a straw paillasse on some 
raised boards and two blankets rolled up at the 
foot of it. 

They had left me in possession of my over- 
coat, oilskins, oilsilk, and sweater, so I should 
be all right, though the night was very cold. 
Alone in the cell in pitch darkness, I heard the 
key turn in the lock, the footfalls recede, the 
outer door close ; then all was silent. 

As my eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, 
I could make out a small window at my right, 
shoulder-high, and traversed by the black 
streaks of three vertical iron bars. The cell 
was so dark that I had the impression of being 
in a vast black hall. I took three steps forward 
and rapped my nose against the wall. Very 
miserable and much disappointed, almost in de- 
spair, I groped to the window and shook the 
bars with all my strength. They were firm and 
unyielding. Feeling my way to the bed, I put 
on all my things, disdaining the blankets, which 
felt filthy, then lay down and was soon asleep. 



CHAPTER VIII 

A NEW HOPE 

I AWOKE, much refreshed, just before the 
clock from the church steeple chimed six. 
For some time I lay quiet, groping my way back 
into reality. When the recollection of my last- 
night's disaster drifted back into my brain, I 
felt almost physically sick with disappointment 
and rage, until awakening determination came 
to my help. **No use repining. Is there no 
way to repair the damage ? Hullo ! it 's Sunday 
to-day. Sunday! A village jail can't be so 
awfully strong ! I '11 be moved to-day, though. 
Will they take me away in a car? Those gen- 
darmes aren't easily fooled! But, after all, 
it 's Sunday. Perhaps that 's a reason why 
they won't move me!" The idea took such a 
hold on me that I was up in a jiffy. 

The cell, as I could see now, was square and 
very small, four paces across. The only article 
of furniture was the bed, which took up about 
one third of the floor space. There was noth- 
ing else in the room. The window was in the 

76 



A NEW HOPE 77 

wall opposite the bed, the door on the right. 
The former was strongly barred, as I knew al- 
ready. Moreover, several ladders hung in front 
of it along the outside of the wall. The door 
seemed fairly strong and was made of rough 
boards. So was the ceiling. A beam extended 
from above the window to the opposite wall. 
The ceiling boards at right angles did not run 
through from wall to wall but terminated on 
top of the beam, as could be seen from their 
ditferent widths on each side of it. Standing 
on the bed, I could place my hands flat against 
them without stretching my arms to the full. 
In one place above it, and near the left wall 
looking toward the window, a splinter had come 
away from the edge of a board. Although the 
wood at that point showed signs of dry-rot, I 
did not investigate it thoroughly just then. 

It was a great find, I thought at the time, 
when I discovered under the bed a big piece of 
timber, the sawn-off end of a beam, about three 
feet long. To pounce upon it and hide it under 
the paillasse was the work of seconds. It would 
furnish an excellent battering-ram. 

Up to now I had depended upon my ears to 
warn me of anybody's coming. After the dis- 
covery of the battering-ram, I made sure, by 
trying to get a glimpse of the next room 



78 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

through cracks in the door, that nobody was 
watching me. A part of the fire-engine could 
be seen, and on it a clean cup and saucer. 
"Somebody must have been in that room to- 
day! Nobody would have placed it there last 
night. Besides, I didn't see anybody carrying 
anything. Couldn't have been done while I 
was awake. Better go slow!" 

Outside the window was a kitchen-garden with 
some fruit-trees. To the right, the corner of a 
house and a pigsty with a solitary undersized 
occupant terminated the view. My horizon was 
bounded by the roofs of a few houses which 
stood behind trees. 

It was past seven o'clock when I heard the 
key turn in the outer door. Soon the door of 
my cell flew open, and in marched the short, 
sharp-featured man of the night before, with 
a pot of coffee, a cup and saucer, and some- 
thing done up in paper, which turned out to be 
excellent bread and butter. Butter, mind you ! 
With him entered a very young soldier, who 
nonchalantly sat down on my bed to survey me 
gravely. Around the opening of the door clus- 
tered the elder boys of the village, pushing and 
straining. Behind them were the girls, giggling 
and whispering nervously. All devoured me 
with their eyes. In the rear were the small fry. 



A NEW HOPE 79 

They overflowed into the street, where the ur- 
chins, feeling perfectly safe from the bad man 
inside, indulged in catcalls and disparaging 
shouts at my expense, while I had breakfast. 
I chatted the while with the man whom I shall 
call the warder, although he probably had many 
functions in the village. My efforts to obtain 
information from him as to whether or not I 
was likely to be taken away that day proved un- 
successful. 

When my visitors had left me, I remembered 
that, experienced jailbird as I had become since 
the beginning of the war, I had a duty to per- 
form — a scrutiny of the walls of the cell for 
any records former occupants might have left 
there. This leaving of inscriptions seems to be 
**the correct thing" among German prisoners — 
criminals, I mean. They are not always nice 
but invariably interesting, particularly under 
the circumstances in which they are read. The 
walls of my abode had been recently white- 
washed, and there was only one inscription: 
''Andre — [I forget the surname] evade Avril 
2me 1916, repris Avril 3me 1916." Thus 
a fellow-fugitive had been here only the previous 
day. 

I very badly wanted my morning smoke, and 
unexpectedly I had found two cigarettes in my 



80 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

pockets, but there were no matches; and I had 
been warned that smoking was not permitted. 
A woman was walking about in the garden at 
this time. I took her to belong to the house 
whose corner I could see ; she was probably the 
wife of the owner. I intended to appeal to her 
compassionate spirit. After a time she was 
joined by an elderly woman, perhaps her 
mother. Although they did not show obvious 
interest in me, yet they kept passing in front 
of my window. At last I addressed them, 
whereupon they stopped with alacrity. The 
elder woman was certainly talkative. She 
pitched into me at once, going over the whole 
register of my sins as an Englishman as con- 
ceived by the German mind, and telling me what 
a disgusting lot of robbers, thieves, and mur- 
derers we were. As soon as she had got it off 
her chest, she became rather friendly. ''You 'd 
be in Holland now, if you had n't been taken last 
night. ' ' 

''Surely not," with a puzzled frown. "I 
thought I 'd have another two-days' walk from 
here." 

"Oh, no. It 's only a four-hours' walk by 
the road into Holland from here. ' ' 

".In this direction?" I pointed east, into 
Germany. 



A NEW HOPE 81 

**No, over there. You go through and 

then take the road on the right. It 's 



not more than four hours, is it?" turning to her 
daughter, who nodded. 

''What 's the use of your telling me now when 
I am behind the bars again?" I groaned. In- 
gratiatingly: ''Could you oblige me with a 
match? I am dying for a smoke." 

"You aren't allowed to smoke!" severely. 
Then they left me. 

For a time small boys kept looking in at the 
window. Their advent was always heralded by 
the sound of a scramble, from which I gathered 
that there must be a fence or a gate between the 
building I was in and the house on my right. 
Sometimes they were chased away incontinently 
by somebody I could not see. That any attempt 
at breaking out would have to lead through the 
garden was a foregone conclusion. The other 
side of the building was on the public street. 

At about ten o 'clock the warder appeared, and 
I managed to be let out, mainly to have a look 
around. When we returned, the Amtmann was 
waiting for me. The first thing he did was to 
search me for the two cigarettes. The women 
had split on me! Then I tried to find out 
whether I was to be moved that day, but could 
not get a satisfactory answer. This made me 



82 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

rather hopeful that the cell would have to har- 
bor me for another night. Of course, I pro- 
fessed myself most anxious to be sent off, which 
was natural. The sooner the military authori- 
ties should take me in charge, the sooner I 
should know my punishment and get it over. I 
was careful to explain all this. Finally, the 
Amtmann asked me whether or not I wanted 
any of the food he had taken from me. The 
answer was in the affirmative. But although he 
repeated this question later in the day, and 
promised to send me the sausage, I never got it. 
My request for something to read he granted 
by sending me some German weeklies called 
Die Woche (''The Week"). 

Then he left me, only to reappear at 11 :30. 
This time he was very solemn, and asked me to 
give him my word of honor that I was not an 
English officer. Obviously one was at large in 
Germany; I could not suppose that it was a shot 
at random. With feeling I assured him that I 
was not an officer and never had been one. My 
questions regarding this interesting subject fell 
on deaf ears. 

The Amtmann 's parting words excited me 
greatly. He regretted that I should have to 
spend another night in his village, because they 



A NEW HOPE 83 

could not arrange for an escort on Sunday. It 
was difficult to hide my exultation over this 
bit of news, but I believe I managed to look de- 
jected and resigned. 

Soon after the Amtmann had gone, the warder 
brought me my dinner in a dinner-pail. He 
left it with me and disappeared. The food was 
certainly the best I had ever received from Ger- 
man authorities at any time. The pot was full 
of excellent potatoes in brown, greasy onion 
gravy. A decent-sized piece of hot, home-made 
sausage lay on top. I was very hungry, but so 
excited that I was half-way through the mess be- 
fore I realized that I was merely swallowing it 
down without tasting a bit of it. That was 
sheer ingratitude, and thereafter I went ahead 
slowly, thoroughly enjoying it. The pot was 
empty far too soon; a second edition would 
have been very acceptable. I complimented the 
warder on the excellent fare in his prison. 

*'I told my wife about you," he acknowledged, 
''and she said we ought to give you a decent 
dinner anyway." 

When I had finished I thought the time favor- 
able to begin operations. After a substan- 
tial Sunday dinner — there was evidently no 
shortage of food in that part of Germany as 



84 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

yet — the village was bound to be more or less 
somnolent. Indeed, no sound was to be heard 
from the street. 

The first thing was to make a thorough inspec- 
tion of the ceiling. If one could get into the 
loft the roof would offer little resistance, it 
being, as I had seen, tiled in the ordinary way. 

Where the splinter had broken off, two boards 
appeared affected by dry-rot, a narrow one and 
a wider one next to it. Tentatively I pushed 
against the narrow one near the end which was 
nailed to the beam. There was some spring 
there, not the firm resistance of a sound board 
well nailed home. Under the slowly increased 
pressure it suddenly gave with a creak, and a 
shower of splinters and dust came down upon 
me and the bed. I could now look into the loft 
and see the under side of the tiles. Directly 
in line with my eyes was a hole where a tile 
had lost its upper half. This would be the 
place to attack, once through the ceiling. 

In the meantime the sun shone through an- 
other hole which I could not see, and, through 
the crack upon my bed. To pull the board back 
into its original position had no effect. Where 
there had been a narrow crack in the morning 
another splinter had become detached, and there 
was the scintillating beam of light cleaving a 



A NEW HOPE 85 

path through the dust motes, a traitorous tell- 
tale. After a moment's thought, I rolled my 
oilsilks into a long sausage and shoved it past 
the raised board into the loft in such a fashion 
that it would roll over the crack when the board 
was lowered. It worked, and after a criti- 
cal inspection I decided that none but an ex- 
ceptionally observant individual would ever 
notice that the ceiling had been tampered with. 

All this had not taken very long. Absolute 
silence brooded over the place. Fearing that 
the narrow board might be insufficient to let me 
into the loft, I tried to get the wider one next to 
it loose. When it resisted the pressure of my 
hands, the battering-ram was brought into play, 
with the overcoat wrapped round the end of it 
to deaden the noise. Using it with discretion, I 
could make no impression. So I left it at that. 

Having removed all traces of my work from 
the bed and the floor, I stood near the door and 
kicked my heels against it. This I did to have 
some explanation, should anybody have heard 
the battering-ram at work. Then I quieted 
down, resolving not to do any more until soon 
after the next visit. 

I was now quite convinced that I should get 
out of the prison during the night. My one 
anxiety was for the weather to keep fine. I had 



86 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

a fair idea of how to proceed as long as I could 
keep my direction. Without a compass I was 
dependent upon the stars. There was no sign 
of a change in the sky; nevertheless, I kept an 
unceasing and apprehensive watch upon what I 
could see of it. 

At three o'clock the Amtmann came back: 
''The people next door complain that you dis- 
turbed them in the night. There were thump- 
ing and bumping noises coming from this cell." 
I had slept almost like a log through the night. 
The involuntary expression of astonishment on 
my face at this compaint was a more convincing 
answer than I could have made verbally to the 
Amtmann, who was watching me narrowly all 
the time. I protested, of course, and then vol- 
unteered the information that I had been kick- 
ing my heels against the door a short time ago, 
apologizing with a contrite mien. 

''Oh, these people always seem to imagine 
things!" was his reply, wherewith he left me. 
I thought I had got well out of it. Obviously 
there was a misunderstanding, and the noise 
which had attracted the attention of ' ' the people 
next door" was that of my efforts an hour or 
so ago. 

At four 'clock the warder brought me coffee 
and bread and butter. He had a small retinue 



A NEW HOPE 87 

with him. "When I had finished, I asked him to 
fill the coffee-pot with water and leave it with 
me. Not only was I very thirsty; I wanted to 
absorb as much moisture as I could while I had 
the chance. 

As soon as he had gone I got on the bed again. 
The sun had now traveled far enough to the 
west to make the roll of oilsilks superfluous. 

If, as I believed, the cell wall was an outer 
one, the board could now be fast only at the end 
above it. Applying my strength at the other 
end near the beam ought to give me a tremen- 
dous leverage, which should force it loose with 
little effort. It resisted, however, until I fan- 
cied I could hear my joints crack with the ex- 
ertion. The strain lasted a few seconds; then 
the board came away above the wall with 
a rending crash. Simultaneously something 
heavy fell to the ground on the other side. The 
sound of it striking the floor, and the slant of 
the board, revealed the existence of a third 
room in the building, across which it had ex- 
tended to the real outer wall of the prison, and 
at the same time explained its strong resistance 
to my efforts. 

With thumping heart and bated breath I list- 
ened for any suspicious sounds from beyond the 
wall or from the street, but nothing happened. 



88 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

Still the board, which now ought to have moved 
easily, resisted. Getting my head into the loft, 
I found it littered with heavy lumps of metal 
and plenty of broken glass, the remnants of old 
street-lamp standards. Some of the metal 
things projected over the opening; as soon as I 
had pushed them away the board moved up and 
down freely. 

This was all I dared do at the moment in 
preparation for the escape. The rest could eas- 
ily be accomplished by the sense of touch in the 
night. For the present, the board had to be 
fitted back into place. I accomplished that, or 
nearly so, and trusted to the blindness of the 
average mortal for my safety. 

When I had removed the dust and splinters 
from my bed, and everything looked in order, I 
saw the woman from next door walking in the 
garden. I was quite taken aback, and watched 
her for some time, but she seemed unconcerned 
enough. She could hardly have seen me except 
by putting her face close to the window, for 
the eaves projected a considerable distance be- 
yond the walls, and were not more than eight 
feet from the ground. Consequently it was 
never light in the cell, and less so now when the 
sun was nearing the sky-line. 



A NEW HOPE 89 

About half an hour afterward she came to 
my window, bringing two girls with her, who 
obviously had come on purpose to see the wild 
Englishman. The taller was a strapping, 
Junoesque maiden with apple-red cheeks and 
considerable assurance. Her friend, a foil to 
her, was more of a Cinderella, gray, middle- 
sized, reticent, but pleasant to look upon, and 
with intelligent eyes and a humorous mouth. 
She said never a word during her friend's lively 
chat with me, only gurgling her amusement now 
and then. 

When they had gone I continued my inter- 
mittent watch of ''the little patch of blue that 
prisoners call the sky." Gradually it changed 
to a rosy hue, then the color faded, and a few 
stars began to twinkle feebly. 

With the approach of evening the tempera- 
ture had gone down, and the overcoat had be- 
come a comfort. To my surprise, an inner 
pocket, crackling ever so little, gave up a piece 
of map not larger than my hand. It was from 
the more useless map I had bought, but the 
most important part of it, the only piece I had 
kept when setting out from Haltern. Being 
printed on thin, unbacked paper, it had escaped 
the attention of my captors the more easily as 



90 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

they had found the other complete map in my 
coat pocket. It did not tell me much more than 
I knew already, but, kept before me until dark- 
ness fell, it undoubtedly helped me visualize the 
country I was walking through later on. 



CHAPTER IX 

BREAKING PRISON 

BEFOEE I made a move I was going to 
wait until the probability of a surprise 
visit should have passed. Such a visit I ex- 
pected at about eleven o'clock, for at that time 
the Amtmann would probably go home from 
wherever he was drinking beer, and on his way 
would have a look at me. To give my jailers an 
extra hour to surprise me in, was again only 
ordinary precaution. 

Once in the loft, I was going to take off as 
many tiles as I must to get through the roof 
into the garden, from there into the street, 
and out of the village in any direction. In the 
country it would most likely prove necessary to 
work round the village at a safe distance in 
order to strike a certain turnpike. Several 
miles along it a brook crossing the road was an 
indication that I should have to look out for a 
third-class cart track. Some distance along 
this a railway, and, shortly after, a first-class 

91 



92 MY ESCAPE FEOM GERMANY 

road, could be taken as evidence that the fron- 
tier was within four miles, and that I had en- 
tered the danger zone. 

When it was too dark to continue the study of 
the scrap of map, I lay down, but was too ex- 
cited to go to sleep. Slowly the hours and quar- 
ter-hours, chimed by the church, dragged past. 
As I expected, just after eleven o'clock the Amt- 
mann entered with the warder. "Why! are n't 
you asleep yet ? " he asked. I protested that the 
rattle of the key had awakened me. They left. 
Half an hour after the warder came in again, 
said something, and disappeared. At 12:15 I 
burst into action. 

Feeling for the sweater and oilsilks, which lay 
ready to hand, I rolled them into a bundle. 
I did the same with my jacket, waistcoat, and 
underclothes, after having stripped to the waist, 
the better to get through the narrow opening in 
the ceiling. Next, I folded the paillasse and 
propped it against the wall at the foot of the 
bed. Standing on it, I lifted the loose board 
and with a jerk of my wrists flung it free. I 
shoved the two bundles of clothes up, first feel- 
ing for an unencumbered space of floor, then lev- 
ered myself after them. 

Arms extended, and with a careful shuffle of 
my feet, lest I should step on some glass or 



BEEAKING PRISON 93 

metal object, I gained the spot where one or 
two stars glimmered through the hole in the 
roof. 

Grasping the remaining half of the broken 
tile, I twisted it out as carefully as I could, not 
without causing a grating noise, which sounded 
loud in the absolute silence. After some diffi- 
culty I drew it through the enlarged hole and, 
again making sure that the floor was clear, de- 
posited it carefully. The next tile gave greater 
trouble. It being entire, the ends of the super- 
imposed ones had to be lifted to allow of its 
withdrawal. When I straightened up, in order 
to attack the third in the row, I was startled by 
the sound of a low-voiced conversation close 
to me and apparently on the same level. 

The natural impulse was to keep quiet, which 
I did. I waited. The even voices went on. 
Carefully I pushed my head outside and looked 
about. In the gable of the house on the right, 
and only about ten yards away, was a small 
window. The sound of murmured speech 
floated through the open panes directly toward 
me from the dark room behind. I took it to be 
the bedroom of the farmer and his wife, and re- 
membering their complaint about my having 
been noisy the night before, I cursed the ill 
chance which had made this one German farmer 



94 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

— one, surely, in ten thousand — fond of fresh air 
in his sleeping-chamber. 

The bitterly cold night air was streaming 
over my naked shoulders while I stood wait- 
ing for the people to go to sleep. Soon the 
talk ceased, but I gave them a liberal amount 
of time before I continued my labors. 

When I had taken out three tiles in the first 
row, those in the next and the next again were 
quickly removed. The opening was now suffi- 
ciently large, but the two exposed laths running 
through it did not leave too much space between 
them for a man of my size to clamber through. 

Stepping back to get my clothes, I misjudged 
the distance, which was small — a step or two 
only — and almost fell through the hole in 
the floor. I saved myself only by quickly shift- 
ing my weight from one foot to the other, which 
touched something soft. With a thud one of 
my bundles fell back into the cell. Fortunately 
it was the oilsilks and sweater; unfortunately 
the piece of map was in the pocket of the former. 
I did not go after them, but left them where they 
had fallen, and slipped into my clothes as 
quickly as the want of light and space would 
permit. This done, it was only a matter of 
great care and unusual contortions to get my 
somewhat bulky person through the laths. 



BREAKING PEISON 95 

At last I stood on the lower of the two I had 
exposed, with the night wind soughing over me. 
Doubtfully, I surveyed the expanse of roof at 
my feet. How to get across it was the question. 
Sliding over the tiles meant making a tremen- 
dous noise, quite apart from the danger of pos- 
sible injury. If they were removed one by one, 
what was to be done with them? Should I 
chuck them into the garden as they came off the 
laths? I had it! Why not repair the roof 
above me as I demolished it in my descent? 

My sense of humor was rather tickled at the 
idea. To imagine the faces of the Amtmann 
and the warder when they were trying to re- 
construct "the crime" was exceedingly funny. 
It made me use some extra and unnecessary 
care as I replaced the tiles on the laths above 
me, taking them, always two and two, from 
those below. 

In a very short time I was standing on the 
last lath. I was in the denser shadow of the 
roof now, and the eight feet from the ground 
might have been eight thousand for all I could 
see of it. This made me hesitate, since a mis- 
calculation of the distance might easily have 
meant a jar or a sprain. Without a sound, how- 
ever, I landed on a soft garden bed. 

A few moments after I was at the gate, and 



96 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

over, and in the street. A solitary street lamp 
was burning here and there ; not a soul was in 
sight. In the shadow of the wall I stooped to 
take off my boots and socks. As far as I recol- 
lect, I got out of the village like a streak of 
greased lightning. In reality I probably walked 
with due caution. I did not stop until I found 
myself in a dark lane outside, where I put on 
my boots. It was now 1 :15. 

The news of my escape would spread, I was 
sure, like wildfire through the country, and a 
hue and cry would soon be raised. Every man 
Jack who could spare the time would make one 
of a searching party. For such a thing to hap- 
pen in a small community was bound to create 
a far greater stir than among the more sophisti- 
cated inhabitants of even a middle-sized town. 
I had received a hint that police dogs were kept 
in Vehlen. This might have been bluff, but it 
was not safe to bet on it. To put as much dis- 
tance between me and the pursuers was my only 
chance. 

To do that I had to find the turnpike I have 
spoken of. As far as I knew, it entered Vehlen 
from the west. South of and parallel to it was 
a secondary railway track. 

As soon as a sufficient expanse of sky was vis- 
ible for me to take bearings, which was impos- 



BREAKING PRISON 97 

sible in the lane on account of big trees on each 
side, I found that I should have to pass around 
the southern side of Vehlen to get to the de- 
sired point. This would prove difficult and 
wasteful of my most precious commodity, time, 
as an extensive copse and generally unfavorable 
country intervened. The seemingly bolder 
course of walking back through the village had 
decided advantages and was at this hour hardly 
dangerous. Off came my boots again, and at a 
dog-trot, which increased to a fast sprint in 
front of a public house with a drunken voice is- 
suing through the window, I crossed the south- 
ern part of the village. I did not happen to 
come upon the turnpike as I had hoped. On 
taking bearings after this second traverse of 
the village I found it lying northeast of me and 
therefore concluded that both railway and road 
were to be looked for in a northerly direction. 

*' Northwest now, and damn the wire fences." 
It was difficult going at first, the country, criss- 
crossed by fences and ditches, enclosing swampy 
meadows. Due north was easier walking and 
would do nearly as well. A path gave me a 
rest. It was so heavenly easy to follow. Bang 1 
I stumbled over a rail. ''Hurrah, the railway! 
Now for the road!" 

Again across-country, I pushed on as fast 



98 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

as I could in my favored direction. It was not 
very fast, for the difficulties were enough to 
drive one crazy. Swampy meadows, ditches, 
barbed-wire fences, woods, copses, but never a 
bit of easy ground. Soon I was wet to the hipsr. 
Branches plucked at my garments or slashed 
me across the face ; barbed-wire fences grasped 
and retained pieces of cloth as I got over them; 
the sides of ditches caved in under my feet 
and, having jumped short in consequence, I 
landed half in the water ; and ever and anon the 
village church tolled another quarter of an hour. 

It was an absolute nightmare. Panting and 
breathless, I got up after one of my many 
tumbles. It was in an open kind of wood. My 
soaked clothes were dripping, yet I felt warm 
with the speed of my flight. Then the sensation 
of being utterly lost came over me, the danger- 
signal that the nerves are giving way. Luckily 
I had sense enough to recognize it as such, and 
promptly sat down in half an inch of water, 
pretending that I was in no hurry whatever. 

I tried to reason out the situation. If the 
road were where I sought it, I should have come 
to it long before. My maps were unreliable in 
small details. Suppose the road crossed to the 
south of the railway, some distance outside Veh- 
len, instead of in the village as marked. In 



BEEAKINO PRISON 99 

that case I had started from a point north of 
the road and south of the railway. Better go 
back to the railway and follow it west until I 
came to the point of intersection. 

I turned due south, feeling better for the rest, 
and ten minutes later jumped the ditch along 
the turnpike. The night was very fine, the road 
hard and smooth. My footsteps rang so loudly 
that it was difficult to tell whether anybody was 
coming up behind me or not. For the third 
time I took off my boots and socks, and walked 
the rest of the night with bare feet. It was 
simply glorious to be able to step out. The 
exercise soon sent the blood tingling and warm- 
ing through my body, which had become chilled 
during my rest in the woods. My clothes were 
drying apace; I hardly knew now that they 
were wet. My toes seemed to grip the ground 
and lever me forward. It was good to be alive. 

After I had traversed the considerable belt of 
isolated farms surrounding a village, the coun- 
try became quite uninhabited for a time, until a 
solitary inn appeared on my right. Here an- 
other road joined from the north, and at the 
point of meeting stood a big iron sign-post. 
*' Dangerous corner ahead! Motors to slow 
down," I managed to decipher, clinging to the 
pointing arm. Soon after, the brook was 



100 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

crossed on a stone bridge. Not being thirsty, I 
did not stop, but went forward until I came to 
a track on my right. Posts were planted across 
it at measured intervals, as if it had been closed 
to wheeled traffic some time before, yet there 
were fresh cart ruts running parallel to it. The 
country was flat, with plenty of cover, and 
empty. I kept checking the direction of the 
path, which meandered about a little, and found 
it one or two points more westerly than I had 
expected. This worried me a little. Its angle 
with the road shown on the map was so small, 
however, that I could not attach undue impor- 
tance to it. At the worst, it meant striking the 
frontier ultimately a mile or two farther south, 
increasing the distance by that much from the 
point the soldier had so triumphantly warned 
me against the night before. 

In due course I came across another railroad 
and a turnpike. A quarter of a mile to the 
north a church steeple was faintly outlined 
against the sky, indicating a village. This tal- 
lied fairly well with my expectations. When 
crossing over the line of rails I had entered the 
danger zone, where sentries and patrols might 
be expected anywhere. Probably the frontier 
was no more than three miles ahead, and might 
be nearer. 



BREAKING PRISON 101 

Instead of proceeding along the road, I walked 
at about two hundred yards to one side over 
plowed fields. It hurt my feet until I thrust 
them hastily into my boots without troubling 
about the socks. 

The sky was paling faintly in the east. It was 
high time to disappear into some thicket, like 
the hunted animal I was. 

Behind a windmill and a house on my right 
the outline of dark woods promised cover. 
There was no possibility now of picking and 
choosing; I had to take what I could find. 
What there was of it was the reverse of satis- 
factory. Most of the ground was swampy. 
The trees and bushes, which seemed to offer ex- 
cellent places for concealment while it was dark, 
moved apart with the growing light, while I 
grew more anxious. 

At last I found a wood composed of small 
birches and pines, and some really magnificent 
trees. Several paths ran through it. Fairly in 
the center they left a sort of island, a little more 
densely studded with trees than the rest, and 
with plenty of long heather between them. This 
must have been about five o 'clock. 

The heather was sopping wet with dew, and I 
did not care to lie down in it just then. In- 
stead, although it was already fairly light, I 



102 MY ESCAPE FEOM GEEMANY 

scouted around, trusting for safety to the early 
hour and my woodcraft. 

At the northern end of the woods I found 
signs of recent clearing work, warning me to 
keep away from there. Farther on, a dense 
patch of saplings would have made an excellent 
lair, had it not been for the ground, which was 
almost a quagmire. On its farther side a cart 
road would give me a start on the following 
night. I did not lie down in the wet heather 
when I had returned to my lair, but pressed 
myself into a small fir-tree. I was tired, and 
soon very cold. Yet I had rather a good time. 
I was a little proud of myself, and picturing the 
faces of my late captors in Vehlen when they 
found the bird flown, which would happen about 
this time, was the best of fun. I chuckled to 
myself about the joke whenever my head, fall- 
ing forward, awoke me from a semi-stupor. 

The sun took some time to clear the morn- 
ing mist from the face of the country. After 
that, it grew warmer quickly. It must have 
been a rare morning, but I was past appreciat- 
ing it. Ere yet the heather was near being dry, 
I let myself fall forward into a nice, springy 
tuft which my dim vision had been gloating 
over for some time. I believe I was asleep be- 
fore I reached the ground. 



BREAKING PRISON 103 

My sleep was so profound that I had no sense 
of the lapse of time when I awoke. As far as 
the temperature went, it might have been a day 
in the latter part of May, instead of the 5th of 
April. From the altitude of the sun it appeared 
to be between ten and eleven o'clock. Children 
and chickens kept up their usual concert not far 
away. The sound of axes came from the clear- 
ing close by. I felt quite warm and comfort- 
able, particularly after I had taken otf my boots 
and placed them and my socks in the sun to dry. 
Neither hunger nor thirst assailed me during 
the day, although the afternoon coffee and 
bread and butter of the previous day had been 
the last food to pass my lips. Sleep stole over 
me softly now and again, so softly, indeed, that 
wakefulness merged into slumber and slumber 
into wakefulness without sensation. Awake, I 
was as alert as ever ; asleep, utterly unconscious. 
I am quite unable to say when or how often this 
happened, so swiftly did the one change into the 
other. 

Nevertheless, the day appeared intolerably 
long. When the sun was still some distance 
above the horizon, I became so restless that I 
had to move about in the confined space I per- 
mitted myself. The breaking and trimming — 
with fingers, nails, and teeth — of a stout sapling 



104 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

into a heavy staff, jumping-pole and, perhaps, 
weapon, occupied part of the time. Then the 
fidgeting started again. I was eager to do 
something. The decision was so near. It had 
to come that night. The weather, still fine, was 
breaking. I felt it in my bones. Without the 
stars nothing could be done ; without food, and 
particularly without water, and with only the 
clothes I stood up in, I should not last through 
a period of wet weather. 

I did not feel apprehensive. On the contrary, 
I had a splendid confidence that all would go 
well. The Dutch border could not well be more 
than three miles away. I had to proceed across- 
country, of course, away from roads, certainly 
never on them, to pass successfully the sentries 
and patrols, who very likely would concentrate 
the greater part of their attention upon them. 
However, it would not do to depend on being 
safe anywhere. As a good deal of my time 
would have to be devoted to avoiding them, I 
might find it difficult to keep an accurate course, 
even if other circumstances did not force me to 
alter it considerably. All this had to be con- 
sidered and certain safeguards planned. For 
those of my readers who are interested in the 
technique of my endeavors I would add that I 
expected to find a railroad track which ran 



BREAKING PRISON 105 

parallel to my proposed course on my left, pre- 
sumably a mile or two off, and a road entering 
Holland about three miles to the north of me, 
which in an extreme case would prevent my go- 
ing hopelessly astray. 

At last the sun touched the sky-line. Before 
it was quite dark, but after the voices of children 
and fowls and the sounds of work in the woods 
had ceased, my restlessness forced me to do 
something. I sneaked along the paths and into 
the thicket of saplings I had discovered in the 
morning, there to ensconce myself close to the 
road. Once a girl and a soldier in animated 
conversation passed me, while ever so grad- 
ually twilight deepened into darkness. 

When the night was as black as could be 
hoped for, I walked a hundred yards or so along 
the road, bent double and with every sense alert. 
Then a path on my right led me through tall 
woods. Coming into the open, I corrected my 
course, and not long after I was stopped by a 
deep ditch, almost a canal. Its banks showed 
white and sandy in the starlight; on the side 
nearest me was a line of narrow rails. Some 
tip-over trucks were standing on them, and a 
few lay upturned on the ground. I remember 
bending down, in order to feel whether or not 
the rails were smooth on top, a sign of recent 



106 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

use, but straightened immediately. Since I 
should be either in Holland, or a prisoner, or 
dead before the morning, these precautions 
seemed superfluous. 

The ditch threw me out of my course. Walk- 
ing along it, I noticed a triangular sheen of light 
in the sky bearing northwest. It looked as if it 
were the reflex of a well-illuminated place miles 
ahead. I took it to be the first station in Hol- 
land on the railway from Bocholt. Later I was 
able to verify this. 

When I got to the end of the ditch, I struck 
out across the flat country toward the light. 
It took me some time to extricate myself from a 
swamp. In trying to work around it, with an 
idea of edging in toward a railway line which I 
knew to be entering Holland somewhere on my 
left, I suddenly came upon a road running 
northwest. I left it quicker than I had got on 
it, walking parallel to it over plowed land and 
keeping it in sight. Shortly after, I passed be- 
tween two houses, to see another road in front 
of me running at right angles to the former. 

I crouched in the angle between the two roads, 
trying to penetrate the darkness, and listening 
with all my might. I could see no living thing, 
and all was silent. Just across from me a struc- 
ture, the nature of which I could not make out, 



BREAKING PRISON 107 

held my gaze. I waited, then jumped across the 
road into its shadow. It now resolved itself 
into an open shed, with a wagon underneath. 
Again I listened and looked, with my back to- 
ward Holland, watching the two houses I had 
passed, and nervously scanning the road. 

Far down it a small dog began to bark. Not 
taking any notice of it at first, I was in the act 
of starting across a field covered knee-high with 
some stiff growth, when it occurred to me that 
the barking sounded like an alarm, of which I 
could not be the cause. 

Gaining the shelter of the shed again, and 
straining my ears, I became aware of distant 
and approaching footsteps, regular and omi- 
nous. I ducked into the ditch, crawling half 
under the floor of the shed, and waited. When 
the sound was only about a yard from me, the 
helmet, the head, the up-slanting rifle muzzle, 
and the shoulders of a patrol became outlined 
against the sky. He walked on and was swal- 
lowed up by the darkness. His footsteps grew 
fainter, died away. 

'' Splendid!" I thought. ''This road must 
be close to the border. It runs parallel to it. 
Maybe I am through the sentry lines." I 
pushed on, very much excited, yet going as care- 
fully as I could. A barbed wire and ditch were 



108 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

negotiated. A patch of open woodland engulfed 
me. Going was bad on account of holes in the 
ground ; my instinct was for rushing it, and diffi- 
cult to curb. 

Three shallow ditches side by side! I felt 
them with my hand to make sure they were not 
merely deeply trodden paths. ^'This must be 
the frontier!" 

I was shaking with excitement and exultation 
when I started forward again. My leg went 
into a hole, and I fell forward across a dry piece 
of wood, which exploded underneath me with a 
noise like a pistol shot. I scrambled to my feet, 
listened, and walked on. 



CHAPTEE X 

CAUGHT again! 

'TJALT!" The command came like a 
X A thunderclap and shook me from head to 
foot. Yet I did not believe that it could mean 
anything but a Dutch sentry. I stopped and 
tried to locate the man, who, from the sound of 
his voice, must be very close. I could not see 
him. 

''Come here, and hold up your hands!" 

I did so and stepped forward. 

"Here, here!" The voice was almost at my 
elbow. Then I saw the white patch of a face 
above a bush. He came up to me, putting his 
pistol muzzle in my stomach. 

''Who are you?" 

I was a bit dizzy and shaken, but not quite 
done yet. 

"Who are you?" I asked. 

"I 'm a frontier guard." 

"Dutch or German?" I could not see his 
uniform. 

"German!" 

109 



110 MY ESCAPE FEOM GEEMANY 

I groianed aloud; then: ''What the are 

you stopping me for? What are you doing 
here, anyway? Leave me alone; I 'm on Dutch 
soil." 

For answer he stepped back, saw the cudgel 
in my upraised hand, and said sharply, ''Drop 
that stick." I obeyed. He whistled, and got 
an answer from close by, followed by the break- 
ing of branches and footsteps, as somebody else 
moved toward us. My captor put his automatic 
into his pocket, keeping his hand on it. 

**Who are you?" he demanded again. 

''That has nothing whatever to do with you. 
I crossed the frontier about fifty yards down 
there. Good night ! ' ' 

"Stop ! You 're over an hour from the fron- 
tier yet." 

For a moment I wondered whether I could get 
my weight into a blow on his jaw and make a 
break for it; but, as I swung slightly forward, 
lowering my left a little at the same time, I re- 
flected that I could not possibly tell whether he 
was in reach ; it was too dark. Now I believed 
that I was still far from the frontier. Even if I 
could down him, there was the second man 
close by. And if a bullet did not bring me 
down, they could easily catch me in a race, 
knowing the country as I did not, or bring any 



CAUGHT AGAIN! Ill 

number of soldiers about my ears. If I were 
caught after having struck him, it would merely 
mean a blank wall and a firing party. Not good 
enough ! 

All this passed quickly through my mind, the 
ideas being only half formed. In the long days 
of solitary confinement, by which I expiated my 
offense, I sat in judgment upon myself again 
and again, every time condemning myself for a 
slacker. But I knew much more about the ac- 
tual position later than at the moment of cap- 
ture, and when one is brooding in cells, ready 
to barter half one's remaining life for a glimpse 
of the open, it is difficult to come to a just judg- 
ment. To-day I cannot see that I could have 
done anything but give in. Had I had money 
on me I should have tried offering a bribe, but 
I had not even a farthing piece in my pocket. 
The ''noes" had it. 

My two captors took me between them and 
marched me off for some time along wood-paths. 
The reaction had set in now, and my senses were 
dulled. I kept stumbling and falling until they 
took my arms, when we made better progress. 

**Did I come straight toward you or what?" 
I asked dully, after a time. 

*'No. We were close to the place we got you 
at. I heard something, and walked toward the 



112 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

sound. Then I saw you," was the reply of the 
first man. 

After an indefinite time, we struck the railway 
and turned down it toward Germany. We 
walked and walked. I was beginning to collect 
my thoughts, and with them my suspicions of 
foul play were returning, when we were chal- 
lenged. 

A sentry flashed his torch over us. In its 
light I perceived for the first time that my cap- 
tors were in civilian clothes, without badge or 
any sign of officialdom. This, and the fact that 
we had picked up the sentry only after walking 
some time in the direction toward Germany, in- 
creased my perplexity. 

I had been dully aware of a strong light in 
front of us. It was from the headlights of a 
train standing in a small station. In front of it 
we passed over a level crossing, and approached 
an inn opposite. 

They took me into a bar-room. At a table on 
one side of the bar sat a soldier in the uniform 
of what the Germans call ^'a sergeant-major- 
lieutenant," a Catholic priest, and a civilian, 
who turned out to be mine host. The sentry 
reported to the soldier while the old priest made 
me sit down at their table. The officer did not 
seem to like this arrangement at first, but the 



CAUGHT AGAIN! 113 

padre took no notice of him. He asked me in 
English whether I was hungry and thirsty. I 
pleaded guilty to both counts, and the nice old 
man forthwith ordered beer and sandwiches for 
me, telling me the while in bad English that he 
had been to the Jesuit College in Rome, where 
he had picked up his knowledge of the language 
from Irishmen. 

In the meantime my captors were regaling 
themselves at the bar. Turning to them, the 
padre suddenly asked, *' Where did you get 

him 1" ' ' Near , ' ' was the answer from the 

first man. ''But — but — but that 's very near 
the frontier," stammered the priest, with a look 
of astonishment on his face. ''No, no," cho- 
rused the assembled company, as if acting on in- 
structions, "that 's still an hour from the 
frontier," using exactly the words my captors 
had used in the woods. I stopped eating for a 
time. I felt physically sick. Only to imagine 
that I had won through, actually got over the 
frontier, as I began firmly to believe now, to be 
tricked back! 

The food and the beer had given me fresh 
strength. When I was told that it was time to 
go, I felt more or less indifferent. We passed 
along a road, the two civilians in front, the sol- 
dier behind, and I in the middle, occupied with 



114 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

my own thoughts and only answering with a 
grim cheerfulness such questions as were ad- 
dressed to me. 

Here I made my second grave mistake, count- 
ing the attempt at passing through Vehlen as 
the first. Had I kept alert for ''something to 
turn up," I could not have failed to see that we 
were marching along the road which I had 
crossed some time before, and passing the same 
shed. Had I noticed it then, instead of the next 
morning, I should have known where the guard- 
room was in which I spent the night. Instead of 
that — but that is anticipating events. 

Presently we arrived at the guard-house, an 
ordinary farmhouse the ground floor of which 
had been cleared for the sterner duties of war. 

Above the table of the N. C. 0.^ in charge a 
large scale map hung against the wall. I was 
not permitted to go near it, but its scale, being 
perhaps three or four inches to the mile, al- 
lowed me to see pretty much all there was to be 
seen from the other side of the room, where I 
had to spend the night on a chair. I recognized 
the road I had crossed (the ditch was marked 
on it) ; and, where the three narrow ditches 
ought to have been, there began the blank space 
with the name ''Holland" written across it. 

1 N. C. 0. : non-commissioned officer. 



CAUGHT AGAIN! 115 

I could not see the guard-house marked, prob- 
ably because I did not know where to look for it. 
Consequently I had not the faintest idea of what 
to do provided I could get away. This uncer- 
tainty made me miss a chance. Of course I was 
never alone in the room, but once during the 
night the N. C. 0. took me out. He had no 
rifle with him ; I doubt whether he had a pistol. 
Naturally he kept close to me; yet, had I 
only known where to turn, a break might have 
been possible, without entailing unreasonable 
risks. 

At last the morning came, and with it the 
usual stir and bustle. One of the soldiers 
cursed me up and down for an Englishman. I 
concluded he had never been to the front. We 
prisoners had the same experience over and over 
again: the fellows with the home billets were 
the brutes and bullies. I was right, for my 
antagonist was stopped short in his peroration 
by a small man with a high treble voice, the re- 
sult of a brain wound. 

''Shut up, you! You make me tired. 
You Ve never seen the enemy. If any cursing 
of Englanders is to be done, I '11 do it. I had 
three English bullets in my body. T 'other 
side 's doing their duty same as we." 

*'Yes,." broke in another, *'I 've fought 



116 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

against the English. As long as we say nothing, 
keep your mouth shut. I '11 tell you as soon as 
your views are wanted, Mr. Stay-at-home. ' ' 

These two latter shared their breakfast with 
me, otherwise I should have had nothing. The 
second one took me outside: ''Sorry, old man, 
hard luck! Sure you were n't in Holland when 
these [a nasty name] dropped on you?" 

"What do you mean?" I asked. 

''Only this — strictly between you and me and 
the doorpost, mind! — my friend and I would 
have liked you to get home. We can imagine 
what it means — 'prisoner of war.' Make no 
mistake, we 'd have stopped you, if you 'd come 
across us. If only you 'd been caught by sol- 
diers instead of these agents! Don't let 

anybody hear it, but from what I heard you were 
in Holland all right." 

At about ten o 'clock I was taken to the inn to 
be examined by the "sergeant-major-lieuten- 
ant. ' ' On the way we passed, and I recognized, 
the shed. 

"How far is it from here to the frontier!" I 
asked my escort. 

He did not answer. 

"Look here, I can't get away from you, can I, 
with no cover within two hundred yards and 
you having five in the magazine and one in the 



CAUGHT AGAIN! 117 

barrel? Can't you understand that I want to 
know?" 

He eyed me doubtfully. 

** You can spit across the frontier from here,'^ 
he made slow answer. 

That, I knew, was meant metaphorically, but 
it sufficed for me. 

The examination did not amount to much. I 
was considered with grave suspicion by the ser- 
geant-major, because at that time I could not 
tell him the name of the village I had escaped 
from. Also, the British officer was haunting 
their minds still. If he and I were not identical, 
I might have met and helped him, was their 
beautifully logical argument. ''See that he is 
taken to Bocholt on the two-thirty train and 
handed over to a man from Company Head- 
quarters. Now take him back to the guard- 
room." 

"When we got back there, they put a sentry in 
the yard, who sat on a chair with a rifle across 
his lap, and went to sleep. It must have been 
a strictly unofficial sentry. Nobody took the 
slightest notice of him, and he was quite super- 
fluous, because most of the soldiers off duty were 
in the yard all the time enjoying the warm sun- 
shine. Dinner-hour came and went. I, of 
course, received nothing officially, but the man 



118 MY ESCAPE FEOM GERMANY 

who had talked with me in the morning gave me 
several of his sandwiches. 

After dinner I was alone in the guard-room 
with a fresh N. C. 0. in charge, who was writing 
up some reports. The window in the next room 
where the men slept at night, and which was now 
deserted, was not latched. I wondered whether 
I could get it open and make a dash for it down 
the road into the next cover. I had been fidget- 
ing about, and when I changed to a steady 
tramp into the kitchen, through the guard-room, 
and then several steps into the dormitory, it at- 
tracted no attention. I doubt whether the N. 
C. 0., intent on his task, was aware of me at all. 
The window was hinged, as all windows are in 
Germany. Twice I visited it and got it ajar. 
The third time I pulled it open, and had placed 
my hands on the sill to get out, when a patrol 
came into view. He saw me at the same time. 
The movement of his rifle could not be misun- 
derstood. I closed the window and stepped 
back. The patrol came into the room and gave 
me some good advice : ''Don't be a fool ! We '11 
get yon sure. Can't afford not to. What do 
you think would happen to us, if you escaped? 
Last night, a Frenchman wouldn't stand on 
challenge. He 's dead now. This is in the day- 



CAUGHT AGAIN! 119 

time. ' ' He never reported me, thougli ; or, if he 
did, I never heard of it. 

I talked with the soldiers now and then. It 
appeared that fugitives were caught virtually 
every night. They would not admit that many 
got over. About one in ten was killed, so they 
said ; but I think that is exaggerated. 

They laughed when I told them of the punish- 
ment I was expecting. "You to be punished, a 
civilian? — ^nonsense! You have a right to try 
for it, if you care to take the risk. Why, mili- 
tary prisoners of war get only a fortnight cell 
in camp for escaping. We Ve had a French- 
man here three times in eight weeks." 

Two soldiers took me to the train and to 
Bocholt. There I was handed over to another 
N. C. 0., and after a tedious journey on a steam 
tram we arrived at Company Headquarters in 
Vreden, where I was again examined, this time 
very thoroughly and with great cleverness. 

That evening I was lodged in prison. Also, 
the weather broke, and it was to the music of 
dripping eaves and gurgling spouts that I fell 
asleep. 



CHAPTEE XI 

UNDER ESCORT 

ON the fourth morning, when it seemed to 
me I had spent about a year in Vreden 
prison, the warder informed me that my escort 
had arrived. I had plenty of time to get over 
the excitement produced by this piece of news, 
for I was not called for until four o 'clock, which 
caused me to miss my evening bowl of skilly, a 
dire calamity. 

The soldier was waiting in the gateway. 
Walking down the passage toward him, I had to 
pass by a big burly N. C. 0. of the German 
Army, who had a tremendous sword attached to 
him. I felt that something was going to happen 
when I approached him. As I was squeez- 
ing past him in the narrow corrider, he suddenly 
shot out a large hand, with which he grasped 
mine, limp with surprise. Giving it a hearty 
shake, he wished me a pleasant Auf Wieder- 
sehen! (Au revoir!) I was almost past utter- 
ance with astonishment, and could only repeat 
his words stammeringly. **Not on your life, if 

120 



UNDER ESCORT 121 

I can help it," I murmured when I had turned 
away and was recovering from the shock. Still, 
I suppose it was kindly meant. 

My escort, a single soldier, went through the 
usual formalities of loading his rifle before my 
eyes and warning me to behave myself. The 
cord for special marksmanship dangled from his 
shoulder. 

He was strictly noncommittal at first, and only 
assured me again, apropos of nothing, during 
our walk to the station, that he did not intend to 
have me escape from him. Afterward he 
thawed considerably, but always remained se- 
rious and subdued, talking a good deal about his 
wife and children, what a hard time they had of 
it, and that he had not seen them for eighteen 
months. 

The preliminary jolt of the small engine of the 
narrow-gage train gave me the sinking sensa- 
tion usually caused by the downward start of a 
fast lift, and for a time my heart seemed to be 
getting heavier with every revolution of the 
wheels, which put a greater distance between me 
and the frontier. Had I cherished hopes in 
spite of all? I don't know. 

With several changes the journey to Berlin 
lasted through the night. I was very hungry, 
and the soldier shared with me what little food 



122 MY ESCAPE FEOM GERMANY 

he had. Two incidents are worth mentioning. 

At the time of my escape a political tension 
between Holland and Germany had caused ru- 
mors of a threatened break between the two 
countries. The soldier who arrested me in 
Vehlen had alluded to it. My escort and I were 
alone in a third-class compartment of the east- 
express, about midnight, when a very dapper 
N. C. 0. entered. He took in the situation at 
a glance. 

''Prisoner's escort?" 

''Yes." 

"What is he?" 

"An Englander." 

"Trying to escape to Holland?" 

"Yes." 

"Well, I only hope the trouble with Holland 
will come to a head. We '11 soon show those 
damned Dutchmen what German discipline 
means. We '11 sweep the country from end to 
end in a week. Did he get far?" 

"Close to the frontier." 

"However did he manage that in that get- 
up?" and he sniffed disgustedly. 

The other incident was interesting in case of 
future attempts to escape. About an hour be- 
fore the train entered Berlin, detectives passed 
along the corridors asking for passports. I 



UNDER ESCORT 123 

began to wonder how I bad managed to get as 
far as I had. 

We arrived in Berlin about 9 a.m. Before we 
proceeded to the prison, the soldier compassion- 
ately bought me a cup of coffee and a roll at the 
station buffet. I had had nothing to eat since 
11 :30 A.M. the previous day, except a roll the sol- 
dier had given me about midnight. 

This was at Alexander Platz Station, fairly in 
the center of Berlin. As we left the station, 
Alexander Platz was in front of us with the fa- 
cade of the Polizei Prasidium on our right. 
Turning in this direction, we entered a quiet 
street along the right side of which the arches of 
the railway accommodated a few small shops 
and storage places underneath them. On the 
other side a wing of the Polizei Prasidium 
continued for a hundred yards or so. The next 
building was plain, official-looking but of no 
very terrible aspect, for the four rows of large 
windows above the ground floor were not barred 
on the outside. In its center a large gateway 
was closed by a heavy wooden double door. 
''Here we are," said my escort, as he pressed 
the button of the electric bell. 

One half of the door was opened by an N. C. 0. 
of the army. Inside the gateway on the left a 
corridor ran along the front of the building, 



124 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

terminating at a door bearing the inscription 
''Office,'^ on an enameled shield, A motion of 
the hand from the N. C. 0. directed us toward 
it. We entered. Another N. C. 0. was sitting 
at a table, writing. My soldier saluted, re- 
ported, then shook hands with me and departed. 

"Your name, date of birth, place of birth, and 
nationality?" said the N. C. 0. at the table, not 
unkindly. 

I looked at the plain office furniture of the ir- 
regular room before answering, feeling very 
downhearted. Having given him the informa- 
tion he wanted, I asked apprehensively: "What 
are you going to do with me ? " 

"We '11 put you in solitary confinement.'* 

"For how long?" 

"Could n't tell you." 

"And what then?" 

"You 're going to stay with us so long that 
you need n't bother yet about the 'what then.' " 

"But aren't you going to send me back to 
Ruhleben when I 'm through with my punish- 
ment for escaping?" 

"I 've nothing to do with it and don't know. 
But I 'm pretty sure you '11 have to stay here till 
the end of the war." 

"That 's hard punishment for an attempt to 
get home ! ' ' 



UNDER ESCOET 125 

* 'Bless my soul, you 're not going to be locked 
up all the time! There are a number of 
Englanders here. Most of them are up and 
down these stairs the whole day." With this 
he went out and shouted for some one. Another 
N. C. 0. appeared. ''Take this man to Block 
Twenty-three and lock him up. Here 's his 
slip." The slip, I saw later, was a piece of 
paper stating my name and nationality, and 
marked with a cross which stood for "solitary 
confinement." It was to be fastened to the 
outside of my cell door. 



CHAPTER XII 

THE STADTVOGTEI AND '' SOLITARY '' 

IN its original meaning Stadtvogtei de- 
notes the official residence of the Stadt- 
vogt. This was an official appointed in feudal 
times by the overlord of the territory, as 
keeper of one of his castles, around which an 
early settlement of farmers and a few artisans 
had grown into a medieval town or Stadt. 

Later on, as a fit successor of the old Stadt- 
vogtei, a prison arose in its place, which was 
modernized from time to time, until in 1916 a 
new modern building stood where once victims 
had vanished into dungeons, and, later, political 
prisoners (among them Bebel, in 1870) had lan- 
guished in dark, musty, insanitary cells. 

Bricks, iron, concrete, and glass had been used 
in the construction of this building, the scanty 
furniture and the cell doors being the only wood 
to be found in it. 

I never came to know the whole of the Stadt- 
vogtei, but learned gradually that it enclosed a 
number of courtyards. These were triangular 

126 



STADTVOGTEI AND ^'SOLITARY" 127 

in shape and just sixty paces in circumference. 
Around them the walls rose five stories high, 
and made deep wells of them rather than yards. 
The regularly spaced windows, tier upon tier, 
with their iron bars increased the dreariness of 
their aspect. 

With a yard as a center, each part of the 
prison surrounding it formed a structural en- 
tity, a ''block," separated from the next one by 
a space about eight feet wide, and extending 
from the ground floor right up to the glass roof 
above. The aggregation of blocks was enclosed 
by the outer walls as the segments of an orange 
are enclosed by the peel. With the cell windows 
toward the yards, the doors were in the cir- 
cumference of the blocks. In front of them, 
frail-looking balconies, or gangways, extending 
around the. blocks, took the place of corridors, 
and overhung by half its width the space sepa- 
rating the component parts of the prison. 
Their floors consisted in most places of thick 
plates of glass, fitting into the angle-irons of the 
cantilevers. Iron staircases and short bridges 
permitted communication between the different 
floors and blocks. 

Imagine yourself standing at the end of one 
of these corridors and looking down its vista. 
In the wall nearest to you the perspectively di- 



128 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

minishing quadrilaterals of eighteen evenly 
spaced doors, each with its ponderous lock, bolt, 
and a spy-hole in the center, with a row of ven- 
tilating holes above them, and, underfoot and 
above, the glass of two balcony floors. On the 
opposite side a breast-high iron railing, beyond 
it four feet of nothingness, and then the blank 
stretch of a whitewashed wall, reflecting the 
light from the skylights on top of the building. 

Try to think of yourself as so situated that 
a chance of '' enjoying" this view mornings and 
evenings, when the cell doors are unlocked for a 
few minutes, is eagerly anticipated as a change 
from the monotony of the cell, and you will in 
one respect approach the sensations of a man in 
solitary confinement. 

Then imagine that the sight of this same 
gaunt vista every day causes you a feeling of al- 
most physical nausea, that you keep in your cell, 
or somebody else's, as much as possible to es- 
cape it, and you may perhaps realize a fractional 
part of the circle of the disagreeable sensations 
of a man who has had the ''liberty of the 
prison" for, say, six months. 

As a rule such emotions are subconscious, but 
they come to the surface when the periodical at- 
tack of prison sickness of the soul lays hold of 
you, a temporary affection of the mind which is 



STADTVOGTEI AND ''SOLITARY" 129 

very disagreeable to the individual who suffers 
from it, and may have unpleasant effects on his 
companions and friends. We used to hide these 
attacks as carefully as we could from one an- 
other. 

Originally the prison had been used for crim- 
inals undergoing light sentences of two or three 
years and less, and for remand prisoners. One 
entire block had been used for the latter. There 
the cells were superior to those in the remainder 
of the building, where there were stone jfloors, 
very small windows, and no artificial light, while 
the beds consisted of boards on an iron frame 
and a paillasse. In the remand cells the floor 
was covered with red linoleum, and in this part 
landings and corridors were covered with the 
same material, there were larger windows, 
spring mattresses hinged to the wall, and — 
luxury beyond belief to a man from Euhleben 
camp — electric lamps. 

Except when special punishment was being 
inflicted, the political prisoners, among whom I 
count the civil prisoners of war, inhabited this 
better part of the prison, comprising perhaps 
three hundred cells around one yard. 

Over a year before my arrival the German 
military authorities had taken over the greater 
part of the Stadtvogtei for their own prisoners. 



130 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

Only a small portion was still occupied by the 
civil prison authorities and their charges. One 
or two of the latter occasionally appeared in our 
wing, in the charge of a civil warder, to do an 
odd job. They were permanently used in the 
kitchen, the bath and disinfecting place, and 
before the furnace. 

In the military part of the prison N. C. 0. 's of 
the army acted as warders for the military and 
political prisoners. 

Of the former there were always a great 
many. They were undergoing punishment for 
slight breaches of discipline, or were remanded 
there awaiting trial before a court martial. 
Occasionally a number of French soldiers, and 
now and again an English Tommy or tar, were 
incarcerated among them. When this hap- 
pened, and we heard of it, we tried to help them 
with food, tobacco, and cigarettes. It was very 
seldom that we succeeded, as we were not al- 
lowed on corridors the cells of which were used 
for military prisoners. 

Since, however, the remand block did not 
quite suffice for the political and civilian pris- 
oners of war, we occasionally found ourselves in 
the military block, though quartered above the 
soldiers on separate corridors. In this fashion, 
and on occasional trips through the prison to 



STADTVOGTEI AND ''SOLITARY" 131 

see the doctor or get something from the kitchen, 
we saw and heard enough of the treatment 
meted out to the German soldiers to form an 
opinion of their sufferings. 

In this the most cherished traditions of the 
German Army, and of the German N. C. O.'s, 
were rigidly adhered to. We never heard one 
of the poor prisoners being spoken to in an 
ordinary voice by their jailers. They were 
shouted at, jeered at, abused, beaten, and bullied 
in every conceivable way. Their part of the 
prison was in a continual uproar from the voices 
of the N. C. O.'s, who evidently enjoyed the 
privilege of torturing in perfect safety their fel- 
low-beings. 

Sometime during 1917 an N. C. 0. who had 
spent most of his life in England came to the 
prison. I heard him talk with one of my friends 
one evening. A few days after, on my way to 
the kitchen, I had the unpleasant experience of 
seeing him break up one of his charges. The 
man had obviously had a dose before I arrived 
on the scene, for he was sobbing in his pitch- 
dark cell, while the N. C. 0. was talking at him 
in a way that made my blood boil. 

A few weeks before this happened, a friend 
of ours, a former A. S. C. man, had shot into the 
cell where I was sitting with a chum. He was 



132 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

laughing queerly, highly excited and pale. 

**Look into the yard, look into the yard!" he 
cried, jumping on a table underneath the win- 
dow. We followed as fast as we could, but were 
just too late. This is what had happened : 

A Black Maria had been driven into the 
yard. Two or three N. C. O.'s had surrounded 
it and opened the door, and one of them had 
climbed inside. The next moment a German 
cavalryman, manacles on wrists and ankles, was 
pitched literally head over heels on to the stone 
pavement of the yard, where he lay, seemingly 
stunned. Two of the N. C. 0. 's grabbed him by 
the collar and, kicking the motionless form, 
dragged him through the gates, which closed 
after them. 

Mo.st of the military prisoners were kept in 
dark cells. I do not know for how long this kind 
of punishment may be inflicted, but I believe six 
weeks is the maximum term. Imagine what it 
means to spend only two weeks in a perfectly 
dark, comfortless room on bread and water, 
sleeping on bare boards without blankets. Yet 
that, as it appeared, would be a very ordinary 
sentence. 

This kind of punishment could be inflicted on 
anybody who was directly under military law, as 
we prisoners of war were. During my seven- 



STADTVOGTEI AND ''SOLITAEY" 133 

teen months in prison, it occurred only once that 
an Englishman, an ex-navy man, got a week of 
it. My particular friends and I were able to 
get a well-cooked, hot meal to him on most days. 
When he came out, he vowed he could have 
stuck a month of it, thanks to our ministrations, 
but his drawn face seemed to belie his words. 

While the military prisoners had their food 
sent in from a barracks outside — judging from 
what we saw of it, it was rather good — we were 
supplied from the prison kitchen. The food 
varied somewhat in quality and quantity at dif- 
ferent times. In 1914 and again in the follow- 
ing year it was nauseous, and so insufficient 
that after four weeks in prison young men found 
it impossible to mount the four flights of stairs 
to the top corridor in less than half an hour. 
When I arrived it happened to be comparatively 
good for a few weeks. The amount one got 
would have kept a man alive, though in constant 
hunger tortures, for perhaps six months, if he 
was in good condition to start with. 

Breakfast was at 7 :30 and consisted of a pint 
of hot black fluid, distantly resembling very thin 
coffee in taste, and a piece of bread weighing 
eight ounces, black, but much better than the 
bread we were accustomed to in camp. A pint 
of soup was served for dinner, but there was 



134 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

never any meat in it. Rumor had it that meat 
was occasionally added bnt disappeared after- 
ward. The staple substance in the beginning 
was potatoes, with mangel-wurzels during the 
following winter. By far the best soup, which 
disappeared from the bill of fare altogther for a 
long time, contained plenty of haricot-beans. 
It was usually given out on Saturdays or Sun- 
days, and tasted rather good. Another one, tol- 
erable for a hungry man, consisted of a sort of 
black bean, with hard shells but mealy kernels, 
and potatoes. A fish soup appeared on the 
menu three times a week ; fortunately one could 
smell it as soon as the big pails left the kitchen 
at the other end of the building. This gave one 
a chance of accumulating the necessary courage 
to face it in one 's bowl. It really was horrible 
beyond words. 

At about five o 'clock a pint of hot water with 
barley was intended to furnish the last meal of 
the day. Often there was less than a pint of 
fluid, and most often the barley was entirely ab- 
sent. But the water had always a dirty blue 
color; consequently it did not even appeal to 
one's aesthetic sense. On Sundays these rations 
were sometimes supplemented by a pickled 
herring or a small piece of sausage. I could 
never bring myself to touch these. 



STADTVOGTEI AND ''SOLITARY" 135 

Subsistence on the prison food exclusively 
would have been almost impossible. I am not 
speaking from the point of view of the average 
man, who has had plenty all his life, but as a 
one-time prisoner of war in Germany, who has 
seen what incredibly little will keep the flame of 
life burning, at least feebly. 

Fortunately, almost all the politicals or pris- 
oners of war obtained extra sustenance in some 
way or another, although the majority of the 
Poles and Russians did so only occasionally and 
in small quantities. 

As far as the British were concerned, we got 
enough food from England in our parcels to 
do entirely without the prison diet. Those 
amongst us who found themselves temporarily 
short of eatables simply drew from others who 
were better supplied. 

I had had a foretaste of prison in Cologne in 
November, 1914, which had not been encourag- 
ing. Consequently I felt apprehensive enough, 
while mounting the stairs behind the N. C. 0. on 
the morning of my arrival. 

The prison being very full, only a convict cell 
ten feet long and five wide was available for me, 
into which I was thrust without ceremony. A 
small window, barred, and high up in the nar- 



136 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

row wall, faced the door. The bed on the left 
was hinged to the brick work and folded flat 
against it. A stool in the corner by the door 
was balanced on the other side by the hot-water 
pipes for heating. Farther along, toward the 
window, a small double shelf, with three pegs 
underneath, took the place of wardrobe, cup- 
board, and bookcase. It held a Prayer Book, a 
New Testament, an earthenware plate, bowl 
and mug, a wooden salt-cellar, a tumbler, and 
a knife, fork, and spoon. Against one side of it 
hung a small printed volume of prison rules and 
a piece of cardboard, showing a dissected draw- 
ing of the shelves, with the contents in regula- 
tion order, and an inventory underneath. In 
the center of the wall a small table was hinged 
and fastened like the bed. A Bible text above 
decorated the cell. 

When in the course of the morning bed-linen 
and a towel were issued to me, I was vastly 
pleased. I had not expected such luxuries. 
The former consisted of a coarse gray bedcloth, 
an enormous bag of the same material, but 
checkered in blue, and another small one of the 
same kind. The big bag was to serve as a cover 
for the two blankets, which were to be folded 
inside ; the small one was a pillow-slip. 

Dinner meant another welcome interruption 



STADTVOGTEI AND ^'SOLITAEY" 137 

in the difficult task of settling down, and, since 
it was Saturday, turned out to be bean soup. 
Although the quantity was far short of what I 
required, particularly in my famished state, it 
appeared so tasty, so far beyond anything I had 
been accustomed to in camp as far as German 
rations were concerned, that I was beginning to 
think myself in clover. 

Still, I was in solitary confinement. How 
long was this state of affairs to last? I had 
asked the man in charge of the canteen, a British 
prisoner who paid me a visit in his official ca- 
pacity. He did not know. He had had four 
and a half months after his escape of the pre- 
vious summer. The N. C. 0. 's refused to com- 
mit themselves, if they answered my questions 
at all. So I tried to face the prospect of being 
shut up in a small cell, with no company but my 
own, for five months. On this basis I worked 
out the final date, made a very rough calendar, 
and thereafter at 11 a.m., the hour of my arrival 
in the Stadtvogtei, marked with great ceremony 
the termination of every twenty-four hours in 
* ' solitary. ' ' 

I was not examined again, contrary to my ex- 
pectations, and my clever plans, framed in Vre- 
den prison, of 'Middling the Boche" into a for- 
giving frame of mind could not be tested. My 



138 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

hopes of a glimpse of Ruhleben camp and my 
friends were not realized. The term of my sol- 
itary confinement evidently was regarded as a 
state secret, not to be communicated even to 
the person whom it most concerned. This was 
a policy always pursued by the Kommandan- 
tur in Berlin — whether out of sheer malice 
or callous indifference I don't know. Since I 
was the first escaper to be punished under 
a new regulation, there was no precedent to form 
an opinion from; but I did not know that, and 
consequently expected the same term of ''soli- 
tary" as other men before me. Those who came 
after me were nQ.t permitted to have much doubt 
about the subject. We saw to that. 

On the morning of the second day I was told 
that, in addition to solitary confinement, punish- 
ment diet had been ordered by the powers that 
were. One day out of every three (for four 
weeks) I was to receive bread and water only. 
It sounded unpleasant. The canteen man, who 
came to see me every day for a few minutes, 
assured me that this was something new, quite 
outside his experience, and, being pressed, 
cheered me vastly by consenting to my expressed 
opinion that it might, perhaps, indicate a cor- 
respondingly short term of "solitary." 

As it turned out, the punishment diet proved 



STADTVOGTEI AND '' SOLITARY" 139 

the reverse of what it was intended to be, an ag- 
gravation. In filling power, twenty-four ounces 
of bread were far superior to the ordinary- 
prison food, and much more palatable than fish 
soup. Very soon I began to look forward to 
my ''hard" days. 

On the morning of the third day a different 
N. C. 0. took charge of my corridor and me. I 
cannot speak too highly of him. Good-natured 
and disinterestedly kind, he made my lot as easy 
as possible. Knowing a little about prison 
routine by now, I had got up before the clanging 
of the prison bell had sounded, apprehensive of 
being late. Then I set to work cleaning my cell, 
scrubbing the floor and dusting the ''furniture," 
and was quite ready when the doors were opened 
to permit us to empty the cell utensils and get 
fresh water. This was soon accomplished, and 
I lingered outside in the corridor to enjoy the 
"view." Not far from me a Polish prisoner 
was cleaning the balcony floor, and the N. C. 0. 
— let us call him Kindman — was trying hard to 
make the Pole understand that the water he was 
using was too dirty for the purpose. The poor 
Pole, not comprehending a word, was working 
away doggedly, while Kindman was gradually 
raising his voice to a shriek in his efforts to 
make his charge understand, without producing 



140 MY ESCAPE FEOM GEEMANY 

the slightest effect. He was not at all nasty 
about it, as one would have expected from a 
German N. C. 0.; he merely substituted vocal 
effort for his lack of knowledge of Polish. 

"I tell you, you are to use clean water, not 
dirty water, clean water, not dirty water, dirty 
water no good, no good," shaking his head. 
Pause, to get a fresh breath. Bearing: ''Clean 
water, clean, clean, clean!" Despairingly he 
glanced in my direction. I fetched my own pail, 
full of clean water, put it beside the Pole's, and, 
stirring it with my hand, nodded vigorously. 
Then, pointing to the thick fluid in the other pail, 
I made the sign of negation. The Pole under- 
stood. 

"You cleaned your cell before opening time 
this morning?" Kindman asked a little later. 
**You needn't do that. I '11 get you a Kal- 
facter — a man to do the dirty work for you. 
You 're a prisoner of war. You are allowed 
these privileges. There are plenty of Poles 
here who '11 be only too glad to do it for a mark a 
week. ' ' 

After some hesitation I assented. In camp I 
had perhaps taken a foolish pride in doing 
everything myself, with the exception of wash- 
ing my underclothes. Now, in prison, I had a 
Kalfacter to scrub and clean. Instead, I began 



STADTVOGTEI AND ^'SOLITARY" 141 

to do my own washing, not liking to en- 
trust it to the doubtfully clean hands of a Pole. 

**I '11 get you a better cell," was Kindman's 
next announcement. A few days after I moved 
into one of the remand cells with its comfortable 
bed, its nice red ''lino" floor, and a bright elec- 
tric light burning up to nine o 'clock, while hith- 
erto I had sat in darkness of an evening. 

So far so good. There were no terrible phys- 
ical hardships to endure. It was unpleasant 
not to have enough food. I did get some help 
from my fellow-countrymen, but parcels were 
arriving irregularly just then, and it was little 
they could spare me. My own had stopped al- 
together, and I had only very little money to 
buy things with, and that borrowed, and conse- 
quently it had to be hoarded like a miser 's until 
I could get some of my own. I was always hun- 
gry, and often could not sleep for griping pains, 
while pictures of meals I had once eaten, and 
menus I would order as soon as I got to Eng- 
land, kept appearing before me. 

It was a red-letter day when my hand-bag 
arrived from the sanatorium. Besides the 
clothes, it contained several tins of food, which I 
determined to consume as sparingly as possible. 
That, however, was easier planned than done. 
Knowing the food to be within reach, I simply 



142 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

could not keep my hands from it. It all went in 
two days. I remember getting up in the middle 
of the night to open a tin containing a Christmas 
pudding, and eating it cold to the last crumb. 
Marvelous to relate, I went peacefully to sleep 
after that. 

The actual treatment in *' solitary" was much 
better than I had hoped for in my most opti- 
mistic moments. Mentally, however, I suffered 
somewhat during the first fortnight or three 
weeks. I had to battle against the worst at- 
tack of melancholia I had ever experienced. I 
never lost my grip of myself entirely, but came 
very near succumbing to absolute despair. The 
uncertainty about the duration of my punish- 
ment, the cessation of all letters and parcels 
from Blighty at a time when I most wanted 
them, the fear that my correspondence would 
merely wander into the waste-paper basket of a 
German censor, and last, but not least, the lack 
of response from my friends in camp to my 
post-cards — all combined to depress my spirits 
horribly. 

I began to wish heartily that I had made a 
daylight attempt from the guard-house, which 
certainly would have ended my troubles one way 
or another. The drop from the balcony to the 
stone flags below had an unholy fascination. 



STADTVOGTEI AND ^^ SOLITARY" 143 

For a number of days I gazed down every mo- 
ment of the few minutes I was allowed outside 
my cell. 

In the beginning of the war I had read of the 
attempted escape of a British officer from a 
fortress in Silesia. When he was apprehended 
somewhere in Saxony, he committed suicide with 
his razor. ^'What a fool!" had run my un- 
sympathetic comment to my friends; ''what did 
he want to do that for!" Now I could not for- 
get his tragic end, and not only understood his 
action but almost admired him for it. 

Every afternoon the other men in solitary 
confinement and I spent an hour — from three to 
four o'clock — walking in single file round the 
yard. An N. C. 0., with a big gun strapped to 
his waist, kept guard over us, and had been or- 
dered to see that we did not talk together. With 
an indulgent man on guard it was occasionally 
possible to get in a word or two, even to carry 
on a conversation for ten minutes or so. In 
this way I made the acquaintance of all the other 
Englishmen who were in the same position as I. 

As I became more cheerful, I began to relish 
the books which were sent to me by the other 
English prisoners, and to look about for means 
of snatching what enjoyment I could under the 



144 MY ESCAPE FEOM GEEMANY 

circumstances. Two visits to the prison doctor 
for the treatment of ''sleeplessness" gave me 
opportunities of chatting for half an hour with 
my friend Ellison, who faked up some complaint 
on the same days. 

My punishment diet was to end on the 8th of 
May. That over, I expected another four 
months under lock and key, until the 10th of 
September. 

On the 7th of May, while tramping round the 
yard, the sergeant-major, second in command, 
came in and beckoned me to him. 

''You 've finished your 'solitary'!" he said, 

"Do you mean to say to-day?" I asked. 
"Am I to have my cell door open, and may I see 
the other men?" 

When the hour of exercise was over, I sped up 
the stairs, taking four steps at a stride, and 
searched for Kindman. 

"I 'm out of 'solitary,' " I bawled. "I 'm 
going to see the other chaps !" 

"Hey, wait a moment," he cried. "I must 
lock your cell door first. ' ' 

"But I tell you I 'm out of 'solitary'!" 

"I believe you, though I don't know officially. 
I 'm not going to lock you in, but lock the door 
I will. If we leave it open, you '11 find all your 
things gone when you come back. These Poles 



STADTVOGTEI AND '^SOLITARY" 145 

would take anything they can lay their hands 
on, and small blame to them. Most of them 
have n 't a shirt to their back. ' ' 

I did not return to my cell until lock-up time, 
feeling comfortably replete from various teas I 
had had, and my throat raw from incessant talk- 
ing. 

The part of our block reserved for men in sol- 
itary confinement, one side of the triangle, was 
separated from the rest by iron gates on each 
landing. These gates barred access to the mil- 
itary part as well. They were always kept 
locked. To clamber over them was easy 
enough; to be seen doing so spelled seven days' 
cells. My first care, consequently, was to get a 
cell *'in front of the gate." This term was 
equivalent amongjjs for ordinary confinement 
as opposed to solitary, for, in ordinary cir- 
cumstances, nobody would willingly stay in a 
cell ''behind the gate" if not in "solitary," and 
was, in fact, not supposed to do so. 

An unexpected physical phenomenom, which I 
afterward observed in others, made itself un- 
pleasantly felt in my case. The first days fol- 
lowing my release from "behind the gate" I was 
extremely nervous and restless; at times I 
longed to be back in "solitary" with the cell 
door securely locked upon me. 



CHAPTER Xni 

CLASSES AND MASSES IN THE STADTVOGTEI 

THE prisoners interned in tlie Stadtvogtei 
were divided into two classes, the aristo- 
crats, or rather the plutocrats, and the rest, thus 
repeating faithfully the state of affairs in the 
outer world. 

To the former belonged all the British with- 
out exception, a few occasional Frenchmen and 
Belgians, a number of Russians of education and 
means, temporarily some German socialists — 
they would be disgusted if they read this — and 
one or two German undesirables, adventurers 
and high-class pickpockets, who had come out of 
prison recently, but were probably not consid- 
ered safe enough to be at large. 

The ''rest" was composed of an ever-chang- 
ing mass of Russian and Polish laborers, never 
less than two hundred and fifty in number. 

Wealth admitted to the upper class. The 
possibility of procuring food was wealth. This 
explains why all the British were plutocrats, for 
they received parcels from home, and had more 

146 



CLASSES AND MASSES 147 

food, as a rule, than anybody else. Frenchmen 
and Belgians, on the contrary, held a precarious 
position on the outside edge of society. Not 
having friends in Germany who could supply 
them with food, as was the case with the Russian 
and German plutocrats, and their parcels from 
France and Belgium being exceedingly few, they 
were frequently in straits. But then, of course, 
they were ''taken up" by some of the "pluto- 
cratic" Englishmen, who chose their associates 
according to other standards than those of di- 
gestible possessions. 

As far as malice aforethought is concerned. 
Englishmen have been, and are, the worst 
treated of all the prisoners of war in Germany. 
I believe the Eussians had a harder time of it 
from sheer neglect by the higher authorities, be- 
ing delivered over to the tender mercies of the 
German N. C. 0. and private soldier, clothed 
with a little brief authority. This class of hu- 
man beings was always chary of tackling Eng- 
lishmen, either singly or in small groups. 

In the Stadtvogtei the usual order was re- 
versed. There we were the cocks of the walk 
among the prisoners, and, in time, entirely un- 
official privileges developed appertaining to us 
as Englishmen. They were inconspicuous 
enough in themselves. An incident will serve 



148 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

as an illustration. It was the more startling in 
its significance as I had no idea that the privi- 
lege in question had come to exist until it had 
happened. 

It was in the summer of 1917. The prisoners 
in ordinary confinement were allowed to be in 
the courtyard at certain hours of the day, but 
were supposed to enter and leave it only at the 
full and half -hours. I had observed this rule so 
far, except on a very few occasions, when I had 
asked the doorkeeper to let me in and out at odd 
times. I was doing certain work for the British 
colony, which now and then called me there on 
business. 

One morning I happened to be walking about 
with Captain T., then recently released from 
solitary confinement for an attempt at escaping. 
We were waiting for the door to be unlocked to 
leave the yard, and when the doorkeeper opened 
it between times, I, followed by the captain, 
passed through, nodding my acknowledgment to 
the N. C. 0. On seeing my companion, he 
stepped up to him threateningly and shouted, 

''What d'you mean by coming out, you " 

I had not grasped the situation, but jumped be- 
tween them instinctively and said, "Hold on. 
This is an Englishman ! ' ' 

''I beg your pardon, I didn't know. I 



CLASSES AND MASSES 149 

thought he was a Pole. I 've never seen him 
before." 

Captain T. had missed the meaning of the af- 
fair, and I had to explain it to him. I went up 
the stairs to our cell feeling very chesty. 

Up to the beginning of June, 1916, the British 
numbered less than twenty. During the course 
of the summer and autumn our colony grew until 
we were about thirty-four strong. More than 
half of the new arrivals were escapers. We had 
our experiences in common, and a class feeling, 
even some class characteristics. We certainly 
all felt equally hostile to that particular section 
in Ruhleben camp whose attitude toward us was 
summed up in these words: ''Aren't you 
ashamed of yourselves? Can't you stay and 
take your gruel?" We were actually asked 
these questions. 

K. was the doyen of our group. He was older 
than the rest. His attempt, with a companion, 
in April, 1915, to which I have referred in a pre- 
vious chapter, was the first made from Ruhle- 
ben, and he had been at liberty longer than any 
one else — ^more than three weeks. He was one 
of the most charming men one could wish to 
meet, though, as he was a Scotsman, it took some 
little time to break down his reserve. Hailing 



150 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

from the same part of the kingdom, there were 
W. and M. who had been in prison since June, 
1915, followed soon after by Wallace Ellison, my 
friend and comrade-to-be, and another man — 
both excellent fellows. Wallace was my neigh- 
bor on the right, as K. was on the left, when I 
had succeeded in getting a cell on the top floor, 
coveted on account of the light and air and the 
greater expanse of sky visible from the window. 
Of some of the men who came after me I shall 
speak later on. 

One of my companions, not an escaper, was 
Dr. Beland, a well-known Canadian. He had 
been residing in Belgium when the war broke 
out, and, although a physician, he had been 
arrested in the summer of 1915, and sent to 
prison in Berlin. The Germans regarded him 
as a member of an enemy government, and 
justified their action in their own way, by say- 
ing that this eliminated his standing as a 
member of the medical profession. As a matter 
of fact. Dr. Beland was not a member of the 
Cabinet in Canada, and had not been for some 
time. He belonged, however, to the House of 
Commons. 

Dr. Beland was a man of great personal 
charm. His wide experience, his high good 
humor, which never failed under the ordinary, 



CLASSES AND MASSES 151 

trying conditions of life in prison, his readiness 
to help all those in distress, and his brilliant 
powers as a conversationalist, made it a delight 
to meet him. In the course of time we got to 
know each other well, and in January, 1917, he 
rendered us, particularly a friend and myself, a 
great service by the delicate handling of an af- 
fair which almost got us sent to a penal prison. 

Little consideration was ordinarily shown him 
by the German authorities. When they had an 
opportunity, as once happened to be the case, 
they treated him with a refined cruelty which 
created universal indignation among his com- 
panions. 

Apart from the British who were permanent 
boarders at our establishment, occasional birds 
of passage on their way to Ruhleben camp 
alighted there for a night or two. Most of them 
were boys who had been residing in Belgium. 
Unable to get away when the invasion over- 
whelmed that unhappy country, and not having 
attained the '^nternable" age of seventeen, 
they had been compelled to stay on, until the day 
of their seventeenth birthday brought their ar- 
rest and subsequent internment as a Greek gift 
from the conquerors. 

Among the other plutocrats, whatever their 
nationality, we found some cheery and inter- 



152 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

esting companions. Several of the socialists 
were men of high intellectual attainments and 
charming manners. We were on the best terms 
with them, a circumstance which, I believe, gave 
rise to some uneasiness to the prison governor. 
He certainly had always something nasty to say 
about them, looking down from the height of 
his semi-education upon men who knew what 
they were talking about, who knew — none better 
— the German governing classes, and who were 
perfectly frank about them. We often had 
them to tea in our cell. They gave us sufficient 
insight into the pre-war intrigues which led to 
the catastrophe, and into the falsehoods and 
falsifications of the German Government, to 
make us catch our breath. 

The component parts of the *'rest," the Polish 
and Russian laborers, came and went. We did 
not get into real contact with them. The diffi- 
culties of language stood in the way, for one 
thing. Poor and ignorant, most of them illit- 
erate, they were greatly to be pitied. With very 
little besides the prison food to live on, and 
constantly maltreated by the N. C. O.'s, it is still 
somewhat of a marvel to me that they did not 
succumb. Their powers of passive resistance, 
their ability under such circumstances to keep 
on living, and even to retain a certain amount 



CLASSES AND MASSES 153 

of cheerfulness, can be explained only by their 
low intellectual and emotional standard and the 
centuries of slavery or semi-slavery their an- 
cestors had endured. 

The most pitiable objects were boys, children 
almost, who occasionally appeared among them. 
Tiny mites they were as to stature, with the 
faces of old men on bodies of children of eight 
or nine years of age. They, too, had been re- 
cruited by German agents. Most of them 
seemed to have been sent into the coal-mines, 
where hard work and little food had broken 
them completely. Their actual years were usu- 
ally between thirteen and sixteen. 

With their mental powers almost destroyed, 
and nearly too weak to walk, they used to sit in 
their cells or stand listlessly about the corridors, 
their eyes lusterless and vacant. 

Whenever any of them were about, they were 
taken on by some of us as pensioners. But even 
a hearty meal set before them did not bring a 
smile to their lips or a gleam into their eyes. 
Like graven images they wolfed it down, tried 
to kiss your hand or the hem of your coat, and 
went to sit or stand as before. 



CHAPTER XIV 

PEISOlSr LIFE AND OFFICIALS 

NOT long before I arrived in prison, a change 
had taken place in its official personnel. 
Formerly, the internment side and the military 
side had been under different commanders. 

What I heard from my friends about the char- 
acter of the man in charge of the interned, pre- 
vious to my coming, caused me to congratulate 
myself upon my good luck in not having to en- 
counter him. He had been an out-and-out bully. 
He was transferred to Ruhleben camp later on, 
where he went under the name of "Stadtvogtei 
Billy." 

The officer in command of the prison after 
" Stadtvogtei Billy" had gone, had charge of the 
interned and military prisoners. This Ober- 
leutnant, to give him his German title, was a 
schoolmaster in civil life. As such he was a 
government official and duly imbued with the 
prescribed attitude of mind. 

Officially we had not much to do with him. 
Occasionally we had to approach him for some 

154 



PRISON LIFE AND OFFICALS 155 

small request or other, and found him courteous 
enough then. When he took the initiative, 
something disagreeable usually happened, or 
was going to happen. 

Often he called upon some of us for a chat. 
That was always something of a trial. He 
never could get rid of his ex cathedra manners ; 
he knew only the approved official version of 
whatever he was talking about, and mostly chose 
rather unfortunate themes for his discourses. 
''Prussian superiority in everything, but par- 
ticularly in war," "the eminent qualities of the 
Prussian rulers," ''Prussian strategy in war 
favorably compared with that of other nations, 
particularly the British," "Jewish treason and 
wickedness" — such were his favorite topics. 
Quite frankly he ran down everything British 
and American. The United States in particular 
was sighing under the absolute rule of two 
wicked autocrats, one called the "President," 
the other the "Almighty Dollar." They were 
inhabited partly by Germans and partly by a 
mass of ignorant and unteachable fools and 
cowards, who, unable to grasp the intellectual 
and moral righteousness of the German nation, 
spouted against them, but were afraid to act. 
He used to bore us to tears, and his departure 
was always followed by sighc of relief. 



156 MY ESCAPE FKOM GERMANY 

Of middle size, he was well built, and kept 
himself superbly fit. He knew a little about 
boxing, and often commanded one of the Eng- 
lishmen to be his sparring partner in one of the 
big empty cells of the military part. His tac- 
tics were to strike blows as hard as he could. 
Once or twice this was discouraged by his op- 
ponent. 

The sergeant-major came officially into con- 
tact with us every day when he made his rounds. 
He was a handsome fellow, stout, with almost 
white hair and a fresh complexion, much 
younger than he looked, and an old army man. 
With the mannerism of a German N. C. 0., he 
was a kindly fellow at heart, and easy to get on 
with. Although his voice could be heard thun- 
dering somewhere in the prison at any hour of 
the day, his bark was ever so much worse than 
his bite. 

The N. C. O.'s acting as warders in our sec- 
tion were always considerate to us and the other 
plutocrats, though in different degrees and for 
different reasons. One or two treated us de- 
cently, quite spontaneously, and strictly within 
the limits of their duty. As for the rest, a quid 
pro quo was the more or less openly confessed 
basis of their behavior toward us. 

The scarcity of food in Germany made it in- 



PRISON LIFE AND OFFICALS 157 

expensive and easy for us to keep the wheels 
oiled. A tin of herring or of dripping, or a few 
biscuits went a very long way. I think we were 
perfectly justified in making these small dona- 
tions. 

The doctor visited the prison only for an hour 
or two every morning, except Sundays. Any 
one who was foolish enough to be taken suddenly 
and seriously ill after he had gone, had to wait 
until the next day, and, if he carried his stupid- 
ity so far as to do it on a Saturday, he could 
not hope for medical attention until Monday 
morning. 

Dr. Beland always helped as far as he could in 
such cases. Many a night he was fetched out 
of bed to give first aid. He was handicapped in 
this work of charity by his lack of drugs and 
stimulants. 

There was a chapel in the prison, whose par- 
son was supposed to look after our spiritual 
welfare. Personally, I never spoke to him, nor 
did I approach his shop. The expression fits, as 
I shall try to demonstrate. 

Among us we had an engineer, M., who felt it 
necessary to observe his religious duties, and 
wished to take part in the services held in the 
chapel. He went to the parson to proffer his 
request. 



158 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

''The Lord God is not for the English," were 
the words in which he refused it. 

The unchanging routine of our prison day was 
as follows : the doors of the cells, locked during 
the night, were opened again at half -past seven 
o'clock in the morning. While the Kalfacters 
cleaned the cells, we prepared breakfast in the 
kitchen. The meal over, some went into the 
courtyard for a walk, while others employed 
themselves in whatever way they felt most 
inclined. The canteen was open from ten 
o'clock until half -past ten. At eleven o'clock 
the midday soup was distributed. It did not 
concern us Englishmen, for we never took our 
share. The kitchen was opened again now for 
the preparation of the midday meal, and there 
was usually a rush to secure one or more of the 
gas-rings. The cleaning of vegetables, peeling 
of potatoes, and other preparations had been 
previously undertaken in the cells by all hands. 
The cooking itself was attended to by the cook 
of the mess and day. Soon after eleven the 
distribution of parcels from England was to be 
expected. On their arrival an N. C. 0. went 
into the yard and shouted the names of the 
lucky ones, generally mispronouncing them. 
Leaving everything to take care of itself, their 
owners went helter-skelter down to the office 



PRISON LIFE AND OFFICALS 159 

to take possession of their packages. From 
half -past three o'clock till five it was again 
possible to brew tea and cook, and from 
four to six to be in the yard. At seven o'clock 
we were locked np for the night. In summer, 
artificial light was not permitted in the cells; 
in winter, the current was switched off at nine 
'clock. 

The most important question for us was that 
of the food-supply. If, accidentally, a week or 
two was barren of parcels, the man who missed 
them was apt to become a nuisance to his com- 
panions by his constant expressions of grieved 
astonishment about this ''absolutely inexplic- 
able stoppage." This was the case regardless 
of whether he had a month's supply in hand or 
not. 

It did not mean that we were gluttons. Apart 
from the absolute necessity of receiving a suffi- 
cient amount of English food, parcels and let- 
ters were the links connecting us with the Old 
Country. When a link was broken we felt lost 
and forsaken. A cessation of letters had a sim- 
ilar effect. Our correspondence was limited to 
four post-cards and two letters a month. Com- 
munication between prisoners of war in differ- 
ent places of internment was prohibited. We 
were not informed of this, however, until the 



160 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

summer of 1917. A great light dawned on me 
then, for I could understand at last why my 
friends in camp had not written to me. 

While in ''solitary" and for two months 
afterward, I had a struggle to make both ends 
meet as far as food was concerned. Only a 
modicum of my letters and parcels from Eng- 
land arrived. I was absolutely ignorant of the 
fact that friends were helping me with a gen- 
erosity for which I can never be sufficiently 
grateful. Having no relatives who could send 
me food, I applied at last to one of the organiza- 
tions sending parcels to prisoners of war and 
was adopted by a generous lady in Southamp- 
ton. 

About that time I joined a mess of four. The 
pooling of our resources made them rather more 
than merely sufficient for us. I debated whether 
I should stop the last-named parcels. But there 
was always so much opportunity of helping 
others, and so much doubt whether our parcels 
would continue, that I said nothing. 

Among a section of the British community it 
had always been considered an obvious duty to 
help their less fortunate compatriots with food, 
when they could afford it and the latter were 
in need. All new-comers required help until 
their parcels began arriving. Those who were 



PRISON LIFE AND OFFICALS 161 

placed in solitary confinement had to be looked 
after during the term of their punishment, for 
they were not permitted to have their parcels. 

At first this was all done without method and 
with resulting hardships to individuals. When 
cooperation among the greater number of the 
British prisoners was finally brought about, 
every man ''behind the gate" received tea for 
breakfast, a hot dinner of canned meat and veg- 
etables, and a substantial supper at five o'clock. 

Occasionally we received cases of food from 
the Relief in Kind Committee at Ruhleben to be 
distributed among the British. Here again lit- 
tle method was observed at first. But in course 
of time the organization was perfected. 

Up to the beginning of May, 1916, the prison- 
ers had to heat their food on spirit stoves as best 
they might. Then fuel for these stoves became 
unobtainable, and the prison authorities turned 
one of the large cells on the top floor into a 
kitchen, installing a number of gas-rings at the 
private expense of the British colony. For a 
charge the equivalent of a cent, one could ob- 
tain a pint of boiling water or use one of the 
rings for half an hour. 

As long as vegetables were obtainable, we 
fared very well. On our declaring that we could 
not take the prison food, the authorities issued 
potatoes to us by way of compensation. During 



162 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

the winter of 1916-17 the scarcity of this vege- 
table became so great in the '' Fatherland" that 
mangel-wnrzels were generally used instead, of 
which we got our scanty share. It was a severe 
tax upon our culinary skill to disguise them 
sufficiently to make them eatable. Palatable 
they could not be made. I was cook at the time 
for a small mess and the sauces I manufactured 
with the help of curry-powder, pepper, salt, vin- 
egar, and mustard, would haunt a professional 
cook to the end of his days. 

I am afraid I have dwelt a long time upon this 
question of food. But then, it was the most im- 
portant one for us. We never could escape it. 
Three times a day at least we were reminded of 
it by the necessity of preparing a meal. Our at- 
titude toward food and eating was largely in- 
fluenced by a feeling of insecurity. * ' How long 
will it be before our parcels stop arriving?" was 
a question ever present in our minds. 

It must be admitted that we seldom lost our 
appetites, despite the fact that we could take 
little exercise. Officially, the only place to get 
this was the yard. Paved with granite blocks, 
it did not offer altogether ideal facilities. The 
sun reached the bottom of this well in one corner 
only during the three best months of the year. 
In fine, mild weather it was always so packed 



PEISON LIFE AND OFFICALS 163 

■with humanity — and that not of the cleanest 
kind — that the air was worse than in the cells. 
Except in rainy or cold weather it stagnated, 
and engendered a feeling of lassitude which 
often was the precursor of a headache. 

Generally speaking, the prison was badly ven- 
tilated, although seemingly ample provision had 
been made for a change of air in the building. 
At certain hours of the day smells of the worst 
kind pervaded the corridors. In the broken 
light of the evening, the pall of fetid and evil air 
surrounding the whole place became visible 
to any one looking from an upper window 
across the yard toward the bright western sky. 
In spite of all, however, Swedish drill at night, 
occasional fierce romps with our friends, or a 
few rounds with the gloves in a space which 
permitted only a stand-up ding-dong way of 
sparring, kept us in tolerable health. 

We were fortunate in having a considerable 
number of private books. In addition to these, 
the Euhleben camp library sent us consignments 
which we returned for others. From serious 
and instructive books to the lightest kind of 
literature, we were plentifully supplied with 
reading matter. 

Sometimes we managed to get hold of an 
English newspaper. They were on sale in Ber- 



164 MY ESCAPE FEOM GERMANY 

lin but strictly forbidden to us prisoners. The 
reason for this prohibition has always been to 
me one of the inexplicable vagaries of the Ger- 
man mind. The "Daily Telegraph" and the 
"Daily Mail" were read on the sly, mostly after 
lock-up time, by one after the other, until they 
fell to pieces. 

The royal game of chess was a great consola- 
tion. It was played to excess, often resulting 
in staleness. 

The first two escapers to arrive after me were 
C. and L., a happy combination of Scotland and 
Ulster. They had gotten away from camp in a 
very adventurous fashion, to be caught three 
days later by an unfortunate combination of love 
and flowers. 

At dawn, one morning, they had found excel- 
lent cover in a clump of lilac bushes growing 
close to an unfrequented road. In the course of 
the morning a German soldier, fully armed, was 
passing their hiding-place, when he caught sight 
of the lilacs in bloom. Some flaxen-haired 
maiden must have been in his thoughts, for he 
started to gather a bunch of them. Only the 
best flowers would do, of course, but they were 
inside the thicket, away from the chance passer- 
by. With his eyes lifted in search of the blooms, 



PRISON LIFE AND OFFICALS 165 

the soldier did not see the two fugitives until he 
trod on them. Before they had time to do any- 
thing, he had them covered with his rifle. 

When C. and L. came out of ''solitary," they 
and Wallace and I soon became good friends. 
Naturally, we discussed the chances of another 
attempt to escape from prison. If possible, we 
would make that attempt together. For this 
purpose it would be desirable to be in one cell. 

There were four big cells on each landing at 
the three corners of the courtyard. They were 
by far the most desirable, with good company to 
share them with you. They had a water-tap 
and a private lavatory, and their cubic capacity 
per man was considerably greater than that of 
the single cells. When one of these on the 
fourth floor became temporarily empty at the 
beginning of July, the four of us asked for and 
obtained permission to take it. 

We all felt a little doubtful about the experi- 
ment at first, but it turned out magnificently; 
and for all purposes we were a very strong 
combination. 

As far as I was concerned, the happiest time 
of the whole of my three years as a prisoner of 
war was spent in that cell. I slept well again, 
and I lost the restless feeling which had ob- 
sessed me while in a cell by myself, for I had 



166 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

gone througli a time of great spiritual loneliness 
before C. and L. arrived. Now I simply basked 
and expanded in this circle of congenial com- 
panionship. I seldom cared to leave the cell, 
and almost ceased visiting my other friends in 
theirs. 

Generally speaking, the internment in the 
Stadtvogtei was no worse than the internment in 
Ruhleben camp. The latter was healthier, and 
there were ever so many more distractions, with 
opportunities for sport and serious work. The 
camp could be almost pleasant in summer, but it 
was terrible in wet or cold weather. The prison 
was always the same, neither hot nor cold. 
Climatic conditions, the changes of the seasons, 
did not affect us at all. Ruhleben was one of the 
dirtiest places in the world ; Stadtvogtei was al- 
ways clean and dry. 

We worked hard, nevertheless, to bring about 
our return to Ruhleben. Whether any of us 
preferred the life in camp or that in prison, on 
one point we were all agreed: the camp was 
much easier to escape from. 

So we sent periodical petitions to the Kom- 
mandantur in Berlin for transfer to Ruhleben, 
and on the rare occasions when a representative 



PKISON LIFE AND OFFICALS 167 

from the American Embassy or, later on, from 
the Dutch Legation, paid us an unexpected visit 
we never failed to complain bitterly about the 
injustice of being kept in prison. But these 
complaints did not avail. It was probably due 
to the comparative charm of the life in a big cell 
that no actual attempt was made by us four be- 
tween June and October, 1916. Discussions of 
ways and means were frequent, of course, in 
secret meetings throughout the house. For a 
long time the plans under consideration always 
involved the destruction of iron bars in front of 
our windows and the erection of a light scaffold- 
ing made from table boards and legs. This scaf- 
folding was to help us gain the roof, and less 
perilously than the method favored by our 
friend Wallace. But Wallace was a crag- 
climber in civil life. We understood perfectly 
that his hobby had affected his brain and would 
not allow him to climb to any high point unless 
he could, by stealth or cunning, do it in the most 
dangerous way. Under pressure, however, he 
was still sane enough to relinquish his idea — for 
this once. We applied the pressure. Once on 
the flat roof of our portion of the prison we 
were to traverse it for some distance, and 
then drop down the face of a blank wall, sixty 



168 MY ESCAPE FROM GEEMANY 

feet high, by means of a rope we had plaited 
from strings saved from our parcels. I doubt 
whether the rope was quite long enough. 

We finally hit upon another plan. Its at- 
tractions were very tempting in comparison 
with the first one, and we tried to put it into 
execution. 

If we could get out of our cell at night and 
open a window on the first floor, we could easily 
drop into the street. As I have mentioned in 
an earlier chapter, the windows of the prison 
overlooking the street were not barred on the 
outside except on the ground floor. These were 
made impassable by iron gratings on the in- 
side which opened like a door, and were un- 
locked by the same key that fitted the locks of 
our cell doors. The windows themselves were 
opened by a hollow square key. A pair of small 
strong pliers would do as well. 

The corridors were almost incessantly pa- 
trolled at night. The necessity of trying to 
dodge the patrol would be not only disturbing 
but somewhat difficult. 

Next the stairs, on each landing, was a room 
used for various purposes. These rooms were 
not patrolled. The one on the first floor which 
was naturally the most attractive to us was 
labeled ''CLERK." This too had the same 



PRISON LIFE AND OFFICALS 169 

lock as the cell doors. In there we should be 
quite undisturbed while attending strictly to 
duty. 

We made a key out of a piece of thick wire 
and the tin lid of a priceless beer-glass. The lid 
was beautifully and appropriately engraved. 
So was the glass, which had a considerable senti- 
mental value. Wallace, the rightful owner, sac- 
rificed the lid on the altar of the common weal. 
With the wire as a core we cast the key in a 
plaster-of-Paris mold and filed it to fit. C. filed 
it. He would not let anybody else touch it. 
He now holds it as his most treasured souvenir 
of the war. 

It was not at all difficult to obtain the plaster 
of Paris for the mold. The making of the key 
was an extremely simple affair altogether, 
though it sounds extremely romantic. 

The opening of the cell door was an outside 
job, for the lock was quite inaccessible from the 
inside with any of the instruments we possessed. 
One of us had to get himself locked out by mis- 
take, hide somewhere in the prison, and release 
the others at the proper time. Wallace volun- 
teered to do this. He got the job. 

On the top floor of the building, in a sort of 
blind corner, was the prison library. It was 
separated from the rest of the corridor by a 



170 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

wood-and-glass partition. Above its door was 
an opening large enougli to offer an easy pas- 
sage for Wallace's small but athletic frame. 
As the library would hardly be used after lock- 
up, Wallace would be more than reasonably safe 
there during his vigil. 

We intended to walk from Berlin to the Baltic 
Sea and make the passage to the nearest Danish 
island in any kind of craft we could dishonestly 
come by. 

*^A11 there?" asked the N. C. 0. in charge of 
our corridor at seven o'clock of the evening 
fixed for the new venture. 

C. and I were sitting opposite each other at 
chess. L. was bending with knitted brows over 
another chess board. The stool opposite him 
was empty. 

*'Yes," I answered absently, without lifting 
my eyes from the board. 

''Where 's Ellison?" using Wallace's sur- 
name. 

I looked up and made a motion toward the 
privy our cell boasted. 

''AH right. GuteNacU." 

"Good night, Herr Unterofficier!" 

The door swung closed and the bolt shot home. 



PRISON LIFE AND OFFICALS 171 

L. continued playing chess with himself, still 
with that concentrated look of his. C. was mean 
enough to take an unfair advantage of my in- 
attention and declared ''mate" after ten or 
twelve more moves. 

Then we talked disjointedly with long pauses 
after each remark. "Wace must have man- 
aged all right." "Seems so." "Too early to 
do anything yet. " " Oh, I don 't know. If they 
come in here again to-night, the game will be up 
anyway." "Not necessarily; we might have 
luck." "We certainly need it for the next ten 
days or so." "Oh," with the long yawn of 
nervousness, "let 's eat." "All right, let 's 
eat." We ate. Then we started dressing. 
Double sets of underwear in my case, and also 
collar and tie. I had almost finished, though my 
two friends still looked pretty much as usual, 
when we heard footsteps approach our door and 
the rattle of the key in the lock. With a white 
stiff collar around my neck, albeit without coat 
or waistcoat, I took a flying leap toward the 
door and into such a position that the whole of 
my person except my face would be concealed by 
one of our two-storied bed structures. It was 
our N. C. 0. who appeared through the opening 
door. Without coming farther than half a step 



172 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

into the cell he handed me, who was nearest to 
him, a bundle of letters from "Blighty" and 
disappeared again. 

We completed our preparations and then lay 
down on our bunks in order to get as much sleep 
as possible while there was a chance. We did 
not get much during the next five hours. We 
were under the nervous stress of having to wait 
for somebody else to act. The hours seemed to 
be of Jupiterian size. Occasionally one of us 
would turn over and mutter something, mostly 
commenting upon the situation we were in, ex- 
pressing his views briefly and forcibly. Now 
and then I lost consciousness in brief spells of 
slumber. I think our emotions were not very 
different from those experienced by men who 
are waiting for the zero hour to go over the top. 
As my brief fighting experience was in the ar- 
tillery, I cannot speak with authority. 

At two o'clock, with a tremendous noise and 
without warning, a key turned in the lock and 
Wallace came into the room in his stocking-feet, 
carefully fastening the door on the inside by a 
little wooden latch. The latch was a strictly 
unofficial attachment of our own making. 

We were up and around him before he had 
done with the door. **No use. We 're up 
against it," he whispered. 



PRISON LIFE AND OFFICALS 173 

We were not absolutely unprepared for this. 
We had been alarmed at something during the 
afternoon of that day. I forget now precisely 
what it was. It had been somewhat intangible. 
Yet it had puzzled us a good deal. As Wal- 
lace had needed some assistance in getting into 
the library, we had been forced to take one or 
two of our comrades into the secret. We felt, 
of course, as sure of their trustworthiness as we 
were of our own, but it is always possible to 
make a mistake. 

**I 'm certain they have a suspicion that some- 
thing is afoot," Wallace explained, ''and are 
merely lying low in order to catch us in the act. 
They may not know who it is. When I came 
out of the library I passed X. 's cell. The door 
was a quarter open. There was a light inside 
and they were talking. That pig Dor an [one of 
the N. C. O.'s] was in there. I then sneaked 
down to the clerk's room in order to open the 
door. I couldn't. Has none of you noticed 
that there is a countersunk screw through the 
bolt? Has any one of you ever seen that door 
used? Now, what are we to do?" 

We decided not to go that night. We were 
unanimous. Briefly, Wallace told us the rest of 
his adventures while we crept between our 
blankets. I personally felt of a sudden very, 



174 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

very tired. But, before I fell asleep I reasoned 
with mixed feelings that we might have pushed 
the attempt a little further. 

We were up at an unusually early hour in 
order to remove all traces of our fell intent. 
We unpacked the two small grips we had wanted 
to take with us and put our extra clothes away. 
The cell, to appear as usual, required general 
tidying up. 

Hoch, our N. C. 0., thrust a startled face in 
upon us when he came to unlock the door at 
seven o'clock. As usual, L., wrapped in 
blankets up to his chin and over his ears, was 
placidly pufiSng clouds of smoke toward the ceil- 
ing. As usual, C. and I were performing our 
morning ablutions in front of the sink. As 
usual, Wallace was watching us sleepily from 
his elevated bunk next the door, waiting for his 
turn, and hoping that it might be long in com- 
ing. 

Hoch, after his first swift survey while still 
in the corridor, had quickly advanced to the cen- 
ter of the room and looked immensely relieved 
when he had counted his chickens. 

"Why, your door was unlocked!" he ex- 
claimed. Wallace nodded sleepily. 

**Yes, one of your fellows came in and dis- 
turbed us at six o'clock.*^ 



PRISON LIFE AND OFFICALS 175 

^'Whowasit?" 

"Don't know. We were asleep and he woke 
US up. Very rude of him. He just looked in 
and walked away, and forgot to lock the door.'* 

Hoch laughed loud and long, like a man who 
has had a bad jolt and finds himself unhurt. 
He was an Alsatian and as such was always 
more or less suspected of disloyalty. In order 
to shield him as much as possible we had chosen 
a night when he would not be on duty, but even 
so, he would have found himself in difficulties 
had we got away. 

Friend Hoch was a smart man, however. 
Nothing further was said about the open door, 
but he didn't believe us; of that I 'm certain. 
Nothing had happened, so he let sleeping dogs 
lie, but he made up his mind that nothing should 
happen. He was uncomfortably vigilant from 
then on. He never locked up, after that, until 
he had made sure that we were all in our cell. 



PAET n 



CHAPTER XV 

A FKESH ATTEMPT 

THE failure of our attempt had a stimu- 
lating effect upon us. Wallace, always 
ready to do anything at any time and under any 
circumstances, the more romantic and adven- 
turous the better, nosed around on his own 
hook. C. and L. said little, but would have 
required no persuasion to do things which a 
person like me would have called foolhardy. I, 
myself, had been only too well aware of the 
many flaws in our previous plan to take its fail- 
ure to heart. The biggest of these flaws was 
our intended procedure after we had broken 
prison. In the absence of a good opening I 
cogitated mainly upon the best way of ac- 
tion, once the start lay behind us. I will 
give here some of my reflections, because they 
shed light upon our subsequent proceedings. 

To escape from the prison, a small amount of 
help from outside was more than desirable. 
To break out was not impossible; to do so 
carrying the necessary food and equipment 

179 



180 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

meant minimizing our chances very consider- 
ably, and they were slender indeed, at the best. 
Once outside, what were we to do? Was it 
possible to walk through the streets of Berlin 
at night carrying bundles and hand-bags? It 
must be remembered that crime was rife in Ger- 
many, and the police as inquisitive as monkeys. 
Could one go to a hotel and wait there for an 
early train on which to get away? To walk 
out of the capital appeared impossible, for we 
had heard that a considerable number of mili- 
tary police, with power to stop anybody, were 
always about, looking for deserters and watch- 
ing the roads to the country. None of us knew 
a friendly soul in Germany of whom we could 
ask assistance, nor had we a knowledge of the 
capital and its seamy side, which would have en- 
abled us to disappear in the under-world of 
criminals and to purchase assistance there. 

In August, two Englishmen, who had escaped 
from Ruhleben and who had managed to live 
in different towns of Germany for several 
weeks, had joined our band of prisoners. 
They had had false passports, an absolute 
knowledge of the German language, and had 
been caught only through their own careless- 
ness. Both were awaiting trial on a charge of 
traveling with false papers, and on one other 



A FRESH ATTEMPT 181 

count. G., a tall, distinguislied-looking man 
with a drawling voice and stately manners, had 
nothing to lose and everything to gain by an- 
other attempt. C. was approaching his forty- 
fifth birthday, and hoped for an exchange. 

In September, S., another man from Rnhleben, 
had turned up. He said he was an escaper, but 
I had my doubts. I don 't think he was British, 
even technically speaking, although the Ger- 
mans considered him so. He was daring and 
clever, however, and had friends in Berlin, and 
there was no doubting his sincerity when he 
swore that he would not stay in the Stadtvogtei 
at the pleasure of the Germans, even if an at- 
tempt to escape cost him his life. 

G. and S. chummed up with each other. A 
German with an English name, of doubtful 
calling in civil life but of powerful physique, 
joined them. Toward the end of October, Wal- 
lace found out definitely that something was 
afoot, S. being the leading spirit. 

Without conceit I believe I can say that my 
friends and I were regarded by all who knew 
us as ''dead safe." Nothing on earth, not ex- 
cepting faithlessness on the part of those we 
trusted, or had to trust, would have made us 
squeal. We must naturally have appeared an 
easy prey for any unscrupulous man, since he 



182 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

would have notliing to fear. Private vengeance 
would have been far too costly for us. 

This being so, Wallace's questions received 
ready answers. S. was about to obtain a key 
for the main gate of the prison. A blank was 
being filed right then by one of his friends out- 
side, to an approximate fit, according to a rough 
drawing he (S.) had made after a chance in- 
spection of the key in the hands of the gate- 
keeper. When the rough key was delivered he 
would have to file it to a working fit. This 
done he and his party would wait for an oppor- 
tune moment on a dark evening and walk out 
of the prison by the front door. 

The scheme was an excellent one, as far as it 
went, and S. had no objections to our joining 
his party. On the contrary, he seemed to my 
liking far too pleased. Why should he receive 
us with open arms, when it was patent that the 
danger of discovery increased with numbers'? 
Without promising definitely to join his party 
we agreed to help him in fitting his key and get- 
ting away. Almost three weeks went by before 
everything was ready, and this brought us into 
the middle of November. 

This was another serious drawback. For a 
long tramp the weather was decidedly too cold. 
We could not hope to be able to take along even 



A FRESH ATTEMPT 183 

an inadequate equipment. Under these circum- 
stances the hardships would be such as to make 
sleeping in the open for a week, or a fortnight, 
impossible. The use of the railway would 
be imperative, which was against C. and L.'s 
chances. Neither of them spoke a word of Ger- 
man, and both were so striking in appearance 
as to make their arrest almost a foregone con- 
clusion. C. was about six feet tall, broad out of 
proportion, and the picture of well-nourished 
health; while L., with black hair, black bushy 
eyebrows on overhanging bone ridges, a mus- 
tache the like of which had never been seen in 
Germany, and a typical seaman's roll, could 
have passed about as well for a full-blooded 
Chinaman as for a son of the ''Fatherland." 
A word from Wallace or me would make 
them withdraw, but that word we could not eas- 
ily bring ourselves to speak. 

Wallace, on the other hand, did his utmost to 
convince me that we must not let this oppor- 
tunity slip by. The other conspirators would 
certainly go, and their escape would close this 
one avenue forever. 

''If you stay behind, I '11 go with the others." 
Another quandary. He would not get through, 
I felt sure, for he proposed to throw in his lot 
with S., looking to him for help, which he would 



184 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

get only as long as it suited S. and no longer. 
As we had no maps, and Wallace on his first 
escape had walked only a few miles, and those 
with a guide, our only chance lay in striking my 
old route. On this second trip we might cover 
the distance in two nights, which meant spend- 
ing only one day in hiding. My knowledge of 
the disposition of sentries along that stretch 
of frontier might possibly get us across, even 
under adverse circumstances. 

I had never felt so uncomfortable in my life 
as I felt when I had to explain to C. and L., that 
it appeared impossible to take them along with 
us, and my feeling of utter shamef acedness was 
only intensified by their immediate and good- 
humored withdrawal. 

To take anything with us beyond what we 
could put in our pockets was not to be thought 
of. Could we send out a parcel or two and 
have them deposited at a station cloak-room? 
Neither Wallace nor I could. We had never 
sent parcels from the prison. S.? Yes. He 
was eternally sending them away. He prof- 
fered his services, which were accepted. A par- 
cel was handed over to him to be deposited at 
a certain station, the cloak-room ticket to be 
handed to us. When the ticket came — there 
was only one — ^he showed it to me, but ex- 



A FRESH ATTEMPT 185 

plained that he could not give it up, as some of 
his own luggage was booked on it. He would 
go with us for our parcel, or get it for us in 
another way. We were to meet him in Berlin 
anyhow, for we had accepted his offer to pro- 
cure us quarters where we could stay a day 
or two in safety. His further assistance, which 
was to make our '^ getting through" a moral 
certainty, I had declined both for Wallace and 
myself. 

On the morning of the 16th of November I 
said I would not go. At four o'clock I said 
I would, and meant it. Between five and six 
we went. 

It was already dark at this time. On the 
ground floor and next to the stairs was the office 
of the prison. From its door one had an unob- 
structed view of the whole length of the corri- 
dor and of that part of the gateway connect- 
ing the street with the yard, nearest to the front 
gate. Fortunately the door was always kept 
shut at this time of the year on account of the 
cold. 

The gatekeeper had his office in one of the 
cells off the corridor. He could not see the 
gateway without leaving the cell. The gate- 
way was at right angles with the corridor, and 



186 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

not very well lighted. Two steps led down to 
its level. In passing from the corridor into the 
yard the front door was to the immediate right 
of the steps. 

At this period of our imprisonment the pris- 
oners had access to the yard at any moment 
during recreation time. It was cleared for the 
day at half -past six o'clock. Wallace and I 
went there at the appointed time — five o'clock — 
wearing our overcoats, as usual, but our best 
clothes underneath. The others were already 
there. 

A sixth man had been admitted to the party, 
a German stockbroker. This upset Wallace so 
much that the slightest attempt at persuasion 
on my part would have made him give up the 
venture altogether. But now that I had made 
up my mind I rather urged him on. 

That morning an N. C. 0. had come on duty 
at the gate who some months before had in- 
sisted upon being armed while on duty, and 
who had declared his intention of preventing 
any one from leaving the building alive, if an 
attempt should be made. Since he was bound 
to discover the open gate almost at once, we 
had a fair chance of getting hurt, which greatly 
perturbed G. 

At length the moment of action came. S., f ol- 



A FRESH ATTEMPT 187 

lowed by the rest of the conspirators, made as 
if to return to his cell. Once inside, he went 
straight to the front gate, while the powerful 
German put his back against the gate we had 
just passed through, to prevent anybody from 
following us. Wallace and I walked up the 
steps into the corridor and stood there, chat- 
ting, to screen S. while he unlocked the door. 
He failed in his first attempt. The second time 
he was successful. 

We slipped through the door and found our- 
selves in the deserted street in front of the 
prison. The others, contrary to agreement, 
broke into a run and disappeared around a cor- 
ner on the left. Wallace and I walked leisurely 
until we turned underneath a railroad bridge 
to the right. 

We felt somewhat relieved when we had 
turned the corner. During the walk up the 
street we had expected every moment to hear 
the crackle of automatics beginning behind us. 
It is one thing to face a gun; it is another to 
expect to be shot in the back. 

We were to meet S. and G. at a certain cafe 
close to the railway station where our parcel had 
been deposited, but it took us a long time to 
get there, as we did not know our way about 
Berlin, and were unable to hire a taxi or 



188 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

droshky. They had almost given up hope when 
we arrived. 

We sat down at their table in a well-lighted, 
large room. Everybody seemed at ease except 
me. I felt nervous, but tried to hide it. Dur- 
ing the next half-hour S. left us several times 
to telephone, as he said, to the house where 
Wallace and I were to stay. Each time he 
came back saying he could not get the connec- 
tion. 

*'Let us go and get our luggage, then,'* I 
suggested. 

** Did n't you say you wanted to buy some 
things?" S. queried. 

**Yes; we want to see whether we can get a 
couple of oilsilks, two water-bottles, a portman- 
teau, and, if possible, a couple of sleeping- 
bags." 

''You 'd better hurry up, then. The shops 
will be open only for another hour. We '11 meet 
you at Cafe at ten o'clock. In the mean- 
time I '11 arrange for your lodgings." 

I was doubtful, but we had trusted him so 
far; it seemed foolish and impolitic to show 
suspicion now. Moreover, to have to carry the 
parcel would be a nuisance if not a danger. . So 
we agreed and left them. 

In a big department-store we bought the arti- 



A FRESH ATTEMPT 189 

cles mentioned. The sleeping-bags were thin, 
by no means waterproof and almost useless, but 
better than nothing. Clothed as we were, in 
ordinary town clothes only, I was much con- 
cerned to get what extra protection from the 
cold we could. 

While I was completing this purchase, a 
shop-walker addressed me and followed up his 
introductory remarks with a reference to the 
latest air raid on London and a pious wish as to 
the fate of the d d English. I heartily en- 
dorsed his sentiments, while Wallace, with danc- 
ing eyes, grinned facetiously at me. Just at 
closing time we left the store and took the hand- 
bag to the station cloak-room. 

Walking about the streets to wile away the 
time until ten o'clock, we met S. and G. carry- 
ing their luggage. "Hullo, what the ! 

It 's all right, boys; be at the place at ten." 

We were there at half-past nine. We were 
still there at eleven. Nobody came. Several 
times I made the round of the cafe, even though 
we sat close to the only entrance and could not 
miss them if they came. At half-past eleven 
we left, but returned in twenty minutes. Then 
we gave up hope. 



CHAPTER XVI 

FEOM BEELIN TO HALTEEN 

THE night was bitterly cold. The extraor- 
dinarily mild weather of the last weeks 
had changed at the most inopportune moment. 
A few hard flakes of snow were now and again 
driven into our faces by a searching wind. 
We were without shelter, without food for the 
walking part of our enterprise, without ade- 
quate clothes. In Wallace's case a year and a 
half, in mine seven months, of prison life had 
not improved the condition of our health. We 
were decidedly too soft to stand a number of 
days of cold weather without at least some fatty 
nourishment. 

I pictured us sleeping in ordinary townish 
winter clothes on a freezing day, perhaps with 
snow on the ground, in thin sleeping-bags con- 
sisting of an outer cover of canvas and a light 
lining of shoddy. We should be wet through in 
half an hour. The moisture would freeze on 
our garments as the generation of body heat, 
already at a low ebb for want of food, de- 
creased. Then, we would go to sleep. 

190 



FROM BERLIN TO HALTERN 191 

I imagined us trying to slip through between 
two sentries, five hundred yards apart, with pa- 
trols in between, and over bare fields, while the 
snow-light gave tolerable vision up to a mile. 

I was so disheartened that I proposed that we 
should walk to the prison and give ourselves up. 
AVe could plead that we had gone away for a 
lark. Our punishment would almost certainly 
be light. There had been precedents which war- 
ranted this view. It was not impossible that 
the German authorities might come to the con- 
clusion that one escape apiece had been enough 
for us. In this way we might get another 
chance under more favorable circumstances. 
If we persisted now, we had not one in ten thou- 
sand, and we firmly believed that after capture 
we should be sent to a penitentiary prison and 
guarded beyond hope of another attempt. 

With splendid pluck and determination Wal- 
lace talked me round. No, he was not going 
to do anything of the sort. Let them catch him, 
if they could, but no voluntary surrender for 
him. I could do as I liked, but we might find it 
easier than we thought. 

''All right! Let 's go to a hotel!" 

''That is n't safe. We must try to get some- 
where else." 

I intended to have my way now. "No fear! 



192 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

From what S. told us, it is safe enough. We 
both speak German pretty well. If we leave 
the place before eight o 'clock we '11 be all right. 
Look at C. and G. ! They never had to show 
their passports at the hotels. This way to the 
station for our luggage! Say, do you know a 
small hotel hereabouts?" 

''Yes, there is the . I stopped there 

once. But it is a good long way from here." 

''Let 's try it, anyway." 

I had pocketed the luggage-ticket. At the 
station I could not find it. An agitated search 
through my pockets failed to reveal the square 
thin paper. We were standing in front of the 
cloak-room, and I was still hunting through my 
pockets when a man approached us. 

I had caught sight of him out of the corner 
of my eye while he was still some yards away. 
If ever there was a detective in plain clothes, he 
was one. Deliberately I half turned my back 
toward him. He stepped up close to my shoul- 
der and peered over it, listening to what we ^ 
were saying. I dared not take any notice. 
Wallace's eyes, boring for a moment into mine 
while he lolled against a counter, are still clear 
before me. 

A few months earlier I had received an an- 
swer to one of our petitions, in a fine official 



FROM BERLIN TO HALTERN 193 

envelop with a huge blue seal on the back. 
With an indefinite idea that the seal might be 
used as an effective camouflage, I had kept the 
envelop by me. I drew out my pocket-book, 
and while searching through it, held the back of 
the envelop conveniently exposed to the eyes 
of the detective. 

''I must have left it at the hotel. Let 's go 
there and send for the luggage," I said aloud 
in German. The detective turned away. So 
did we. 

A single cab stood in front of the station. I 
turned toward the station police-office to get 
the brass disk, but was met half-way by the 
policeman, who had been watching us. He 
handed it to me without a word. 

The hotel at which we wished to stay was full. 
After some palaver cabby took us to one near 
by, where we got a room. It was a very small 
place. The night-porter seemed to be the only 
servant on duty. He appeared somewhat sus- 
picious, but said nothing about it. 

The double-bedded room we were shown into 
looked very nice. We thought it ridiculously 
luxurious, but Wallace went to bed at once. It 
was about one o'clock. While undressing I 
found the luggage-ticket in an inner waistcoat 
pocket. 



194 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

I had still about two hours' work ahead of 
me, for I had to map out the route for the 
following day. I was quite convinced that Ber- 
lin was too hot for us. We had not yet dis- 
cussed our further plans, but had bought a 
time-table at the station. 

Finally, having considered a number of al- 
ternative routes, I selected a slow train, which 
was to leave the Zoological Garden Station, 
where our luggage was, at 10:24 a.m. for 
Hanover, and was due to arrive some time 
after 6 p.m. I went to sleep, dead tired, at 
about 2 :45. 

We got our knock and hot water at 6:30, as 
ordered. Having dressed, we went into the 
breakfast-room. A nice, comfortable-looking 
body presided there ; I believe she was the pro- 
prietress. We had foreseen the formality of 
the visitors' book, and had our names and ad- 
dresses pat. The landlady peered at them, then 
at us. I had to negotiate with her for our 
breakfast, for we had no bread-cards and wanted 
something to eat. 

''You are foreigners, are n't you?" she asked. 

' ' Good gracious, no ! Why do you think so ? " 

''I thought so from your accent." 

*'We 're not from this part of Germany, as 
you can see by the visitors ' book. ' ' I was going 



FKOM BERLIN TO HALTERN 195 

to add that we had lived a long time abroad, 
etc., but, if I recollect rightly, I did not. I 
don't believe it safe to volunteer information, 
unless one is telling the truth. 

' ' That 's quite all right, then. We have to be 
so careful about strangers! Just sign these 
emergency slips for your bread-cards. Thank 
you, sir." 

During a very sketchy breakfast consisting 
of cotTee, rolls, and butter, a young lieutenant 
passed down the room, and with a bright smile 
saluted us civilly. Wallace and I looked at 
each other, grinning covertly. What a lark! 
If he knew ! 

At a quarter to eight we left the hotel and 
slowly made our way toward the station. Hav- 
ing plenty of time, we entered a cafe to have a 
chat and another breakfast, even more sketchy 
than the first. We were the only guests in the 
place, and had to wait for the milk. Here I 
outlined my plans for the day. At last Wal- 
lace assented. 

*'Come along, then," I said, rising. ''Let 's 
see what we can buy in the way of food. Choco- 
late first." 

In a high-class confectioner's we were told 
that chocolate was out of the question, but 
chocolates we could have. 



196 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

''What price r' 

"Nine marks [$1.75] a pound!" 

We could not afford more than two pounds, 
because the things we had bought the night be- 
fore had made a big hole in our joint capital 
of $125.00 — in German money, of course. Next 
we obtained two small tins of sardines at $1.10 
each. Our efforts to buy something in the way 
of meat or fat were not crowned with success. 

At the station, however, things went well, in 
spite of my extreme agitation when buying the 
tickets. 

Within the first half-hour we passed Ruhle- 
ben camp, and had a glimpse of the grand 
stands, the barracks, and the enclosure, which 
we knew so intimately from the inside. 

At about 12 :30 the train stopped for over an 
hour at Stendal. The station restaurant sup- 
plied us with a fairly ample fish meal, beer, and 
coffee. Another long stop occurred later on. 

During the journey we passed a considerable 
number of prisoners' camps. They seemed as a 
rule to be situated close to a railway line, within 
easy distance from a small station. The aspect 
of the huddled hutments, the wire fences around 
them with watch-towers at the corners, and the 
sentries on guard, was indescribably forlorn. 
At one station at which we stopped a transport 



FROM BERLIN TO HALTERN 197 

of Russian prisoners entrained under a guard 
of ancient territorials. 

Wallace was in high spirits all the time. I 
was, on the contrary, moody, irritable, and wor- 
ried. My feelings were in complete accord with 
the weather. 

A lowering gray wrack of clouds was being 
torn and driven by a whistling wind above the 
naked fields and copses. Occasionally showers 
of hard snowflakes could be heard rattling on 
the glass of the carriage windows. Our com- 
partment was over-heated, as trains always are 
in Germany. Yet, I shivered occasionally, as I 
looked out of the window, while trying to con- 
struct a small optimistic raft to cling to in a 
sea of despondency. I made a bad companion 
that journey. 

Hanover was reached on time, and the lug- 
gage temporarily disposed of in the cloak-room. 
The town greeted us with a brief but thick bliz- 
zard — about the worst thing that could happen 
to us short of arrest. Confronted with it, my 
spirits improved. 

*'Snow, or no snow, we '11 make the best at- 
tempt we can at the frontier," I whispered. 

*' Just what I think, " Wallace agreed heartily. 

His boots did not fit him well, and I urged him 
to buy bigger ones. A suitable pair, sEown to 



198 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

us in a shop, cost $15.00, too much for our de- 
clining purse. When Wallace looked up at me 
from his chair, mutely shaking his head, I could 
not insist on the expenditure. 

After that we walked about the streets, look- 
ing for a likely hotel. We decided on a dirty 
fifth-rate one, to which we resolved to return 
later, and then wandered back to the brighter, 
fashionable part of the town. We had dinner 
in a big restaurant. The warmth, the lights, 
the show of gaiety around us, and an ample but 
■meatless meal accompanied by a glass or two of 
decent lager, made me feel subduedly optimistic. 
Wallace was nearly jumping out of his skin with 
joie de vivre. 

At ten o'clock we went to our hotel. It was 
unnecessarily low-class. W"e did not seem to fit 
into the scheme of things there, and conse- 
quently were regarded with half -concealed sus- 
picion. Nevertheless, no questions were asked. 
Our room was cheerless and cold. We waited 
until our luggage was brought; then Wallace 
crept into bed, while I sat in my overcoat near 
the guttering candle, looking up trains. 

I intended to get to Haltern the following eve- 
ning. The main railway lines lay across our 
route, and several changes were necessary, there 
being no direct trains over the branch lines we 



FEOM BERLIN TO HALTERN 199 

had to use. My task proved a difficult one. 
Few trains were running in Germany at that 
time. The fast corridor expresses, which we 
could have taken over comparatively small 
stretches, had to be carefully avoided, for we 
knew now of the existence of passport controls 
on them. The slow trains did not usually con- 
nect. After much comparing, testing, and re- 
testing, I was fairly satisfied at last. 

I had resolved not to leave Hanover from the 
main station. Detectives might be watching for 
us there. By using electric trams we could get 
to Hainholz, a village near Hanover, and there 
pick up our train. At about 12 :30 we should be 
at Minden. A two-hours' wait there, and a 
journey of about one and a half hours would 
take us to Osnabruck by about 5 p.m. Forty 
minutes later a non-corridor express would 
carry us to Haltern, where we should arrive 
at 7:30. 

I was nearly beat when I tumbled into bed at 
two o'clock, envying Wallace, whose regular 
breathing had filled the room for hours past. 

Bang, bang, bang ! bang, bang, bang ! 
"All ri — " I began. 

"Danke schon, danJce! [Thank you]," 
shrieked Wallace, to drown my voice. 



200 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

I opened my eyes foolishly, to a dark room. 
A match spluttered, the wick caught, and Wal- 
lace 's eyes glittered reproachfully into mine 
from behind his glasses. ''I say, do you know 
what you said?" This in German. 

^'Well, I—" 

**Shshsh, you chump, Deutsch!" 

"We 'd like breakfast, please!" This to a 
youth in the bar-room. 

''Have you got your bread-cards?" 

"No. We 're travelers ; we '11 sign travelers' 
slips." 

"Nothing doing. You can have a cup of 
coffee." 

"Look here, we got bread at a restaurant last 
night without them. Why can't you give us 
some ? ' ' 

At this suggestion the uncivil youth lost his 
temper completely, and we were fain to content 
ourselves with a cup of German coffee-substi- 
tute. 

Before eight o 'clock we were out of the place. 
Our luggage was again in the cloak-room of 
the main station. A long walk got rid of most 
of the time before us. At ten we tried to buy 
some nuts. The oil they contained would sup- 



FROM BERLIN TO HALTERN 201 

ply our bodies with fuel; but none were to be 
had. 

Having got our luggage, we took a tram to 
Hainholz, where we arrived far too early. The 
cloak-room and ticket-office of the small station 
were closed. Some minutes after eleven the 
train left. It was a pleasant change to get into 
the hot carriage after the cold station. 

At 12:30 we arrived at Minden. The huge 
dark waiting-room seemed full of intangible 
menaces. We spent an exceedingly uncomfort- 
able time there, but were recompensed by an ex- 
cellent meal. A considerable piece of veal, with 
plenty of vegetables, blunted our fears and ap- 
peased our ravenous hunger. 

At the station where next we had to change 
we found our train waiting on a siding, and at 
7 :30 P.M. we arrived in Haltern. 

The weather had been much the same as on 
the preceding day, a little colder, a little more 
snow. With the prospect of getting within 
walking-distance of Holland, my spirits were 
not so depressed. It is such a bonny feeling to 
get on ''your own feet," instead of having to 
wait in a railway carriage or station, expecting 
to feel a hand on your shoulder, and hear a voice 
asking you for your papers ! 



CHAPTER XVII 

WESTWARD ho! 

UNTIL we got out into the open country I 
was to walk in front, carrying the port- 
manteau, which was a little too bulky a load for 
a man of smaller stature than mine. Wallace 
was to follow twenty or thirty paces in the rear, 
but not to lose sight of me. 

Into the town and the market-place it was 
plain sailing. Without looking at the sign ''To 
Wesel," the existence of which I had forgotten, 
I turned into the right lane, recognizing it from 
its general aspect. Nevertheless, the dark- 
ness made the ground which I had traversed in 
daylight look different. 

At the cross-roads a long procession of street 
lamps disappeared down the street which ought 
to have been the right one. On my first escape 
I had failed to notice these standards on what 
then looked like a country road. They are not 
very conspicuous in daylight. I had had my 
eyes fixed upon the landscape generally, rather 
than upon details close to me, which had no 

202 



WESTWARD HO! 203 

meaning for me at that time. Furthermore, I 
had very soon taken a path on the left. 

For the moment I was confused, and, not be- 
ing able to take bearings in the dark, I walked 
ahead, up a lane, pondering the situation. Here 
were no lights, which was inviting. A woman 
passed me, and a moment after Wallace closed 
up rapidly. 

"Did you see that woman?" he asked. ''She 
turned and looked after you. She '11 inform the 
police. We Ve got to got off the road ! ' ' 

''AH right! It 's dark enough for anything. 
There is no danger. Just let 's get off the road 
and see whether anything happens." 

We waited some time, but nothing occurred. 
Nothing could, as a matter of fact, for we did n't 
wait long enough. 

"I can't recognize this road," I complained. 
"The darkness makes everything look different. 
We 're too far east. That road with the lamps 
along it is the right one, after all. ' ' 

"You 're absolutely wrong," came the quite 
unexpected opposition from Wallace. "We 're 
too far west." 

I had only been soliloquizing aloud, to give 
Wallace a chance of understanding every step 
we took. 

"How can you know that?" 



204 MY ESCAPE FEOM GEEMANY 

*'I saw a sign, farther back, 'To Wesel/ 
That means we are too far west." 

"Are you sure you saw the sign, and did we 
pass along the road in its direction?" 

* * Absolutely certain ! ' ' 

*'I can't understand it at all. We simply 
can't be too far west!" Wallace had seen the 
sign in the market-place. This being the start- 
ing-point, his conclusion was not warranted. 
But he could not know that. I, on the other 
hand, was sufficiently doubtful on account of the 
lamp standards, and Wallace's opposition 
turned the scales. 

**A11 right," I conceded ungraciously, for I 
am rather touchy about my woodcraft, ''if 
you 're so sure of it, we '11 walk straight north. 
In that way we '11 come across the road we are 
looking for, if you 're right. If not, we can 
turn back. Now we '11 find a place to pack our 
knapsacks and get rid of this beastly bag." 

We left the road definitely now, close to a 
church which stood dark and lonely among open 
fields. We were still near Haltern, but the 
night increased the distances. 

A drop of rain struck my face. Delighted, I 
turned to Wallace, who was behind me: "I 
say, I believe it 's coming on to rain. It would 
be fine if the weather got mild again ! ' ' 



WESTWARD HO! 205 

Behind a wall, which enclosed a churchyard, 
we stopped to get ready for the road. We 
packed our knapsacks as best we could in com- 
plete darkness, for our only flash-lamp refused 
to act. While we were doing so, it really began 
to rain, and we slipped into our oilsilks. Then 
we started out across-country, due north, walk- 
ing by compass. 

The going was terrible. The ground was 
frozen hard and the rain on coming in contact 
with it congealed to ice, which caused us to slip 
and stumble on the unyielding ridges between 
the furrows, and now and again to come down 
hard. The exertion kept us warm. When I 
took off my hat for a moment, to wipe my fore- 
head, I found the brim full of solid ice. 

We proceeded for about half an hour, uphill 
all the time. Then the edge of a wood stopped 
us. That decided me : I knew now that we were 
following the wrong course. 

''Look here, Wace, there 's not a shadow of a 
doubt in my mind that we are too far east. 
Haltern is bearing south. If we were anywhere 
near the right road, it ought to lie in a south- 
easterly direction. If we had been too far 
west, we should have come to the woods much 
sooner. We can make one very decisive test. 
We '11 go east, until the eastern extremity of 



206 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

Haltern bears south. Then we shall know that 
we are too far to the east!" 

We altered our course accordingly and pro- 
ceeded in this new direction. Suddenly the 
ground disappeared from underneath my feet, 
and I fell headlong down the banks of a deep, 
hollow road. Wallace was saved by being last. 
Up the other side and across more fields we 
came to another road. Here we almost ran into 
a man, whom our sudden appearance frightened 
out of his wits, to judge by the way he hurried 
off toward the town. 

"Now, then, Haltern bears almost southwest 
now. Back we go to the cross-roads. South- 
east will take us there in a straight line. Come 
along." 

On the way back I noticed for the first time a 
change in my companion. His steps, all of a 
sudden, seemed to have lost their elasticity, 
while I grew stronger and more contented every 
minute. 

''What 's the matter with you?" I asked. 

''Nothing." 

"Of course there is. I know it from the way 
you walk!" 

"I don't feel extra well. Something wrong 
with my stomach. It '11 pass soon, I expect." 

That was bad news. We came to a lonely 



WESTWARD HO! 207 

wooden hut, like a very small barn. I stopped. 
''Tell me frankly if you think you can't go on. 
In that case we '11 break in here. We '11 have 
a certain amount of shelter inside. There is no 
danger. To-morrow will be Sunday and nobody 
is likely to come near us. It is much better to 
stop in time, before you have drawn too much 
upon your reserve strength. The situation is 
not precarious enough for that. You '11 want 
that later on." 

' ' No, ' ' he insisted ; " I can go on. ' ' 

At last we turned into the road we were look- 
ing for. The rain had changed to sleet. The 
road was slippery with ice. Progress would 
have been slow under any circumstances, but 
it was slower on account of Wallace's failing 
strength. He was plucky, however, and he kept 
going. 

The usual thirst began to trouble us. Fortu- 
nately we had filled our water-bottles at the 
hotel in Hanover. To husband our supply on 
Wallace's behalf, I contented myself with suck- 
ing the ice which I peeled in lumps from my hat 
brim. 

In due course we came to the first clearing. 
The outlines of a barn on the right, and a house 
on the left, seemed familiar. "Let 's rest a 
bit," I proposed to Wallace, for he seemed al- 



208 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

most done. He propped himself in a sitting 
posture against the wall of the barn, while I 
scouted around. 

There was a farmyard behind the structure. 
The barn itself consisted of a loft, reared on 
strong uprights. Only half the space below was 
enclosed by boards, and filled with compressed 
straw. The other half was open, and contained 
a big farm wagon. Between its wheels and the 
straw a number of clumsy ladders were tightly 
wedged. In the gable of the loft an open door 
showed a black interior. 

''There will be straw up there," I said to 
Wallace. "The cattle were given a fresh bed 
to-day, probably. Nobody will want to fetch 
straw on a Sunday. We '11 be quite safe." 
And I went through the same argument as be- 
fore. 

Wallace was undecided for a moment, I be- 
lieve. But, to tell the truth, I had spoken rather 
too sharply to him a little time before. My 
only excuse is that I was exceedingly worried. 
Rotten as he felt, he was bound to be nettled. 
"No," he said; "I will go on." 

It was obvious that he was suffering from 
an attack of something akin to indigestion. I 
was unable, though, to make head or tail of his 
attack. When I pressed him for information, 



WESTWARD HO! 209 

he told me he had swallowed some shaving-soap, 
mistaking it in the dark for chocolate. He had 
hardly any pain, but our pace decreased grad- 
ually to a crawl as we neared the crest of the 
spur of hills, where the path which I had used 
on my first escape branched off. Not having a 
torch, I missed it, but discovered my mistake 
about two hundred yards beyond. We had 
come out of the forest. Plowed fields on our 
right had given me the first hint of my error. 

*'We '11 have to turn back. I 've missed the 
path," I informed my friend. 

*'I can't move any farther. I must lie 
down," answered Wallace indistinctly, swaying 
on his feet. 

Too miserable to say anything, I led him 
back, and some way into the timber got out his 
flimsy sleeping-bag, and put him inside. Then 
I felt his pulse. It was going at the rate of 
about one hundred and thirty a minute. 

*'How do you feel?" I asked. 

''Done for, old man. But don't you worry. 
You go on. No use spoiling your chance. You 
leave me here. I '11 be all right." 

* ' I 'm not going to leave you, except for a few 
minutes. I want to find that path. I '11 be 
back in a quarter of an hour. You '11 be all 
right that long, won't you?" 



210 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

I was still hoping for a miraculous recovery, 
although Wallace's rapid pulse had upset me 
sorely. My mind was tenaciously holding to the 
idea of ''carrying on," and I wished to know 
how to get my companion on the right road 
without wasting his precious strength. 

It took me less than ten minutes to find the 
path. The groping about in the darkness of the 
wood had taken my mind off the real issue. 
Now, on my way back, I had to face the ugly 
situation we were in. 

I had not enough medical knowledge to gage 
the insignificance of the accelerated heart ac- 
tion, and thus almost feared the worst. If only 
he could be sick ! Perhaps he was going to die 
on my hands! If he lived through the night, 
could I hope that his strength would return to 
him on the morrow and allow us to proceed? 

One thing was out of the question: I could 
not leave him alone, even if he was out of dan- 
ger and in shelter, for we were both fully per- 
suaded that, in the event of capture, we should 
be sent to a penal prison. But what was to be 
done? Wallace could not lie out in the cold 
the rest of the night and all the next day. The 
only shelter reasonably near was the barn, 
which we had passed some time before. We 



WESTWARD HO! 211 

should have to go back to it. We had to reach 
it, even if I had to carry him. 

The snow, which had come on again, was 
whispering in the trees when I entered among 
them, groping in the thick darkness for his re- 
cumbent form. It sifted straight down through 
the still air, while the wind shrieked and roared 
overhead. He called feebly when I came close 
to him in my blind search. 

''Well, how goes it?" I inquired, with seem- 
ing cheerfulness. 

''I think I 'm better." This through chat- 
tering teeth. ''But I 'm aw-aw-awfully cold." 

"Get up. I '11 help you." 

"I-I-I don't want to." 

"But you can't stay here," I protested. 
"You 'd be frozen stiff before morning. We 've 
got to get back to that barn we passed." 

"A-a-aren't you going to lie down, too? 
We might keep each other warm. ' ' 

"No, I 'm not," very emphatically. "Get 
up, d 'you hear, get up !" 

Partly by sheer force I got him out of the 
thing we had bought for a sleeping-bag. Al- 
ready the wet had penetrated in places. While 
Wallace stood leaning against a tree, I groped 
round for our knapsacks. 



212 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

Carrying the double burden, which privilege 
cost me another struggle with Wallace, I led 
back over the ground which we had covered on 
our way up, my friend lurching drunkenly by 
my side. Then he fell and lay in a faint, but 
recovered quickly. After I had got him on his 
feet again, I kept his arm, supporting him as 
much as I could. Every few hundred steps or 
so he half collapsed, his knees doubling under 
him. When this happened I let him slide to the 
ground, thus to get some rest. 

I do not know how often this had occurred 
when I noticed something wrong about the road. 
The clearing on the left, with stumps standing 
black against white snow patches — surely I 
could not have twice missed noticing it! The 
ground, too, fell rather sharply. '^ Traveling 
toward the Wesel road!" I thought. **I re- 
member no villages there, if I recollect the 
map. ' ' 

Wallace had been sitting on the ground all 
this time. I helped him to his feet and urged 
him on: ''We 've got to be traveling! Up 
hill now ! Awfully sorry, old chap, but I missed 
the road." 

Three rests, and the old track was under our 
feet. Three more, and we were drawing near 
to the little settlement. 



WESTWARD HO! 213 

**It '11 not be very long now, old man; cheer 
up!" I said encouragingly. 

"Mus' get into warmth. Knock first house 
come to. Can't stick it," Wallace muttered in 
reply. 

^'Try to make that barn, won't you? It 's 
close by." 

We came abreast of a house with a light in 
the passage, which showed dimly through some 
panes of glass above the front door. The time 
must have been about 2 :30 a.m. 

Wallace stopped and peered at it. **Is that 
a house?" 

*'Yes." 

*' Knock!" and with a contented sigh he slid 
to the ground. 

I was not prepared to give up so soon. That 
is what his command meant, as it appeared to 
me. My pal moved and struggled into a sitting 
position. 

"Knock!" he repeated. 

I knocked. No answer. I knocked again, 
but less determined. The same result. The 
third time my knuckles met the wood with a nice 
regard for the sleepers inside. I did not in- 
tend them to hear me ; it was only for Wallace 's 
satisfaction that I went through this perform- 
ance. 



214 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

' * They don 't hear, ' ' I announced, having gone 
back to my companion. ''Come on, make an- 
other effort. Let 's get to the barn. It 's only 
a few more steps," I urged. 

''Did you knock?" he asked suspiciously. 

"Yes, three times!" I replied, with veracious 
if somewhat misleading detail, and I dragged 
him up and on. 

At last we reached it. Wallace was soon rest- 
ing in the same place as he did hours before, 
while I went to get a ladder. Three of them 
were wedged in on one side between a wheel of 
the wagon and a support of the barn, and by the 
compressed straw on the other. I tore, and 
heaved, and struggled with berserk rage until 
I got one out, the sweat pouring from under- 
neath my hat brim. It was an enormously 
clumsy affair, and trying to rear it against the 
barn and into the door opening off the loft, I 
failed again and again by an inch or two. After 
a brief rest I went at it again. The last inch 
seemed unattainable. Another effort! Sud- 
denly it leaped right up and into position. 
Turning in surprise, I saw my friend standing 
behind me. His little strength had been added 
to mine just as the right moment. 

"I '11 go up first and have a look !" I told him. 
The rear of the loft was four feet deep in clean- 



WESTWARD HO! 215 

smelling straw. Thank God for that! We 
should be warm! 

''Up you go!" I was on the ground again 
to help Wallace up the ladder. He managed to 
ascend it, and then pitched forward. I let him 
lie and fetched our knapsacks. The ladder I 
left in position for the time being. If a few 
hours' rest would improve my friend to such an 
extent that it became feasible to "carry on" 
during the following night, I intended to drag it 
up after us, and hide it at the rear of the barn, 
where I proposed to conceal ourselves. It 
would not be missed on a Sunday. 

A hearty heave and shove sent Wallace 
sprawling on the straw. Soon I had a hollow 
dug for him, into which he crawled, and I cov- 
ered him as best I could. Then I flung myself 
down by his side, too fagged to care for over- 
coat or covering. 

Fighting against the drowsiness which imme- 
diately stole over me, I must have fallen asleep 
for a short spell, for I felt suddenly very cold. 
Too tired to move immediately, I lay shivering, 
listening to the dying wind and the faint beating 
of snow against the thin walls and the roof of 
our shelter. When the cold became intolerable, 
I crawled with stiff joints into the corner where 
I had flung our knapsacks, got my overcoat out, 



216 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

and put it on. The exercise cleared my dulled 
brain, and I perceived that I had better look 
after Wallace. His teeth were chattering when 
I bent over him. As well as I could, I got him 
warmer after a time. I now kept wide awake, 
trying to piece together what was left of our 
hopes. 

I did not anticipate hearing any one stirring 
in the few houses around until late daylight, and 
dully wondered at the sound of voices which 
penetrated to our hiding-place, hours before 
some chinks in the roof showed faintly gray. 
We could not see the door from where we rested. 

With an effort I turned to Wallace. ''Are 
you awake 1 ' ' 

*'Yes." 

' ' Do you feel you 've got to get into warmth ? ' ' 

''Yes." 

"That means going to a farm and meeting 
people!" 

"Yes." 

Poor Wallace ! His voice sounded so flat and 
tired! I have often wondered since whether I 
ought not to have made another effort to keep 
him where he was, and to proceed with him the 
next night. He might have stood it. I don't 
think he quite realized what it meant getting 
into shelter. I believed at the time that he did. 



WESTWARD HO! 217 

However, I acted according to my lights, with- 
out another word. 

Sliding from the straw I approached the door, 
to stop in wonder for a moment before going 
down the ladder. Long icicles had grown from 
the upper edge of the opening almost to the 
floor of the loft in the few hours we had been 
inside, and between them the cold light of a 
winter morning, strongly reflected by a white, 
unbroken surface, met my eyes. It was eight 
o'clock by my watch. The icicles snapped with 
a glassy sound and fell noiselessly outside when 
I broke through their curtain. 

Beyond it the world was white, — the ground, 
as far as I could see it ; the air, thick with danc- 
ing flakes ; and the sky. What mattered it now 
whether we stayed in the loft or sought the shel- 
ter of a farm? 



CHAPTER XVIII 

THE GAME IS UP 

THE farmhouse door was opened by a girl 
of about sixteen, wbo turned bacli into the 
kitcben to call her mother, a woman whom inces- 
sant toil seemed to have aged beyond her years. 

**May I speak to your husband I" I asked 
politely. 

*'He 's not at home." 

''Do you expect him soon?" 

"No; he 's away," — hesitating — "at Hal- 
tern. ' ' 

"Well, it 's this way. I am with a friend. 
We came from Bremen yesterday, and we 're on 
our way to Cologne for a holiday. We 've rela- 
tives living at Klein Recken, and thought of 
spending a few days with them. We tried to 
walk there last night from Haltern, but in the 
awful weather we lost the road. My friend fell 
ill, too. Fortunately, we found your barn, and 
slept in the straw. We '11 pay, of course, for 
what damage we did. But the question is this : 
Can you put us up for a day or two, until my 

218 



THE GAME IS UP 219 

friend gets really better? We '11 pay you well, 
if you would. ' ' 

' ' You can 't stay here that long, but you may 
come into the kitchen and warm yourself. You 
may stay until twelve o'clock." 

I reflected. A few hours' grace! We had 
better take it and see how things turned out. 

*'A11 right," I said. ''I '11 fetch my friend 
and our knapsacks." 

With the assistance of the son of the house, a 
strong lad about fifteen years of age, I got 
Wallace into the kitchen. We were given seats 
in front of the roaring kitchener. My friend 
seemed much better. 

Our arrival was obviously an extraordinary 
event, as well it might be ; but if the people did 
conjecture at all, they showed it only in a sup- 
pressed kind of excitement. There was no at- 
mosphere of suspicion, and the few curious ques- 
tions the woman asked us were easily parried. 

There were three girls and the boy in the 
family, all approaching maturity. While the 
woman bustled about preparing a breakfast for 
us, two of the girls and the boy made ready to 
go out. I did not like that, and tried to find 
out where they were going. 

''You 're going to church, I suppose?" This 
to the eldest girl. 



220 MY ESCAPE FEOM GERMANY 

"Yes," shyly. 

''Have you got one near by?" 

**No. We go to Haltern to church. My sis- 
ter will be back soon from the first service." 
So there was a fourth girl ! 

''Did she go to Haltern, too?" 

"Yes." 

"It seems a long way to walk on a day like 
this." 

Silence. 

"You do get up early, even on Sundays, don't 
you? I thought I heard you about very early, 
this morning." 

"We get up at five o'clock," broke in the old 
woman. 

"You don't say so. I always thought there 
was little farm work to be done in winter. You 
don't seem to take advantage of your slack 
time. ' ' 

"There 's lots to do." And she ran through 
a list of duties. 

"Do you feel the war as much as we do in 
town? How are you off for food?" 

' ' We manage all right. ' ' 

"Well, we don't. We 're chemists in an am- 
munition factory, and we 're worked to death 
and don't get much to eat. There 's nothing 
one can buy. We applied for a holiday, being 



THE GAME IS UP 221 

tired of the everlasting long hours, and got 
three weeks. A bit too late for MuUer, here. 
He ought n 't to have come, feeling as he did. ' ' 

The coffee was brewed, and bread, butter, and 
a plate of cut sausage were on the table. Both 
of us went at it cheerfully. In the middle of 
the meal the fourth girl, the eldest, came in, 
and the boy and his two sisters left. This was 
about half -past nine. 

When I had an opportunity, I whispered to 
Wallace : * ' We 've got to get away from here 
soon after eleven. Play up." Then I ad- 
dressed him aloud: ''What do you think we 'd 
better do?" 

''I hardly know. I feel pretty rotten still." 

Turning to the woman, I asked: ''It 's about 
two and a half hours to Klein Recken, is n 't it ? " 

"About that." 

"Do you think you can manage that, MuUer?" 
I looked seriously at Wallace, who understood 
and answered, equally serious: 

"No; I 'm afraid it would be too much for 
me." 

"Well, then, we had better go back to Hal- 
tern and on to Cologne from there. Let me see 
what train we can catch. " Luckily we had kept 
our time-table. It came in handy now. 

"There 's a train at eleven-fifty-four to 



222 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

Cologne. We miglit catch that, don't you 
think r' 

''Anything you like, Erhardt." 

"Right-o." To the woman: "How long do 
you reckon to the station in Haltern from 
here?" 

' ' You can do it in a little over three quarters 
of an hour." 

' ' That 's what I make it. We '11 leave here at 
eleven. ' ' 

A dollar and a quarter seemed to satisfy the 
old woman. Indeed, she obviously had not ex- 
pected so much, but she quickly hid the money 
in her purse. Then we took our leave. 

The weather had cleared somewhat. It was 
freezing slightly. The clouds were thinning 
here and there, and an occasional ray of sun- 
shine drifted over the landscape. It was a reg- 
ular Christmas picture. Two or three inches of 
snow covered the ground, reJQecting strongly the 
dispersed light from the sky. Black and 
sharply defined, the woods were outlined against 
it or the unblemished white of the fields, where 
they stretched up the hillsides behind them. 
Each branch had a ridge of snow on its upper 
surface, and looked as if it had been drawn with 
India ink and a sharp-pointed pen on glazed pa- 



THE GAME IS UP 223 

per. The boughs of the dark-green pines were 
bending under masses of downy white, lumps of 
which slid to the ground as we passed. Then 
the boughs, relieved from part of their load, 
swayed upward. 

* ' You see why I wanted to be off, ' ' I explained 
to Wallace as soon as we were out of earshot, 
glad to drop back into English, since nobody 
was about. "Our unexpected appearance at 
the farm was sufficiently extraordinary to make 
the girls serve it up hot and strong to their 
friends in Haltern. It '11 fly round the town 
like bazaar talk, and we 'd have had the police 
coming for us in a couple of shakes. But what 
now?" 

We talked it over. Again Wallace asked me 
to leave him, but my stern answer silenced his 
arguments. Again it was he who urged ' ' carry- 
ing on," although he admitted that to walk any 
distance was out of the question for him. He 
submitted a plan which did not strike me as par- 
ticularly hopeful, but it was the best we could do 
under the circumstances. 

We were to go back to a certain town in Ger- 
many, get help there, and rest in security until 
Wallace's condition and the weather had im- 
proved sufficiently to make another attempt 
feasible. 



224 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

Our exchequer was at low water, and I had 
my doubts whether we could reach the town. 
But we might try. 

Sundry groups of people were coming from 
Haltern; some of them stared rather hard at 
us. Wallace was improving, and enjoyed the 
walk, but he seemed very weak, and his feet hurt 
him so that he limped painfully along. 

The weather changed again for the worse, and 
as we approached the station it began to snow. 
I took tickets to a junction not far off. Dur- 
ing the twenty minutes until the train was 
due we intended to wait on the platform. 

*'Why don't you wait in the waiting-room? 
It 's beastly on the platform," said the ticket- 
collector. 

''Might as well," I said indifferently, and 
turned back. 

We took our seats and ordered coffee. At 
the counter opposite us stood a young lieutenant 
in the long green, peace frock-coat of a rifle- 
man. We saw the ticket-collector come in and 
address him, whereupon the lieutenant walked 
straight up to us. 

"Where do you come from*?" 

"We walked in from Klein Recken this morn- 
ing, ' ' I answered. 



THE GAME IS UP 225 

* ' Show me your papers ! ' ' 

I smiled and addressed Wallace in English: 
''Game 's up, old man!" He nodded glumly. 
The lieutenant stared. Then I explained. 

The oflScer did not seem very much surprised, 
and the miraculous way in which an armed sol- 
dier appeared at his elbow showed that he had 
been expecting a denouement. 

"I '11 have to send you to the guard-room at 
present," he said. ''Don't try any tricks. My 
men are hellishly sharp." I reflected a mo- 
ment. Escape was out of the question for the 
present. Wallace's condition, the tracks we 
should leave in the snow, etc., would make an 
attempt absurd. 

"I don't know whether you will accept our 
word that we sha'n't run away while in your 
charge. We '11 give it, if you like. That 's 
right, Wace, isn't it?" I turned to my friend 
with the last words. Wallace nodded. 

The lieutenant had been in the act of turning 
away, but wheeled sharply when I had spoken. 
Looking us over carefully, he said: "Eight, I 
will. Are you hungry?" 

"We could do with something to eat," Wal- 
lace spoke up for the first time. The officer 
turned to his soldier : 



226 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

*'You will take these men to the guard-room. 
Leave your rifle here. They are to have double 
rations of whatever you get." 

''Besten Dank, Herr Leutnant!" we ac- 
knowledged. 

With a salute we turned and followed the sol- 
dier across the railway lines to the guard-room. 
It was in a wooden hut, and similar to all other 
guard-rooms. We had a wash and made our- 
selves as presentable as possible. Wallace 
shaved. I was still wearing a beard. 

About five o 'clock the lieutenant came over to 
search us. Warning us to give up everything of 
importance, he merely asked us to hand him 
what we had in our pockets, and glanced through 
our knapsacks. 

At six o'clock we were taken to his office in 
the station building, escorted by two armed sol- 
diers. 

**You gave me your word that you were not 
going to make another attempt ! ' ' the lieutenant 
reminded us. 

**Yes, sir, as long as we are in your charge, 
or that of your men. ' ' 

''Good. I shall have to send you to prison 
now. I can't keep you in the guard-room. 
Don't let the warder search you. I 've done 
that. You are military prisoners, not under 



THE GAME IS UP 227 

civil authority. If you prefer it, try to make 
him give you a cell where you can be together. 
Tell him I said you were to have one. You '11 
be here for a few days before an escort can be 
got for you. Good-by." 

He called our escort in while we stood out- 
side, nobody, seemingly, heeding us in the least. 
When he had finished with the two soldiers, we 
marched off. They were particularly nice 
chaps from the Ehine, not proper Prussians, 
and largely influenced by socialistic ideas. 
They twitted us good-humoredly about having 
been caught. Laughing and joking, we arrived 
at our destination. 

The old prison building in a narrow side street 
near the market-place looked particularly unin- 
viting. After much ringing of the bell and, at 
last, thumping with the butt end of a rifle, the 
door opened, and we were confronted by a large, 
flabby-looking man in uniform, with the placid, 
unlined face of a person whose life had flowed 
past him like a pleasant, quiet stream. He was 
something between a policeman and a warder, 
as it appeared. At the moment he was smok- 
ing a long pipe with a porcelain bowl. 

Our arrival agitated him as much as his nat- 
ural phlegm and his military training would 



228 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

permit. For a time he seemed undecided what 
to do, and repeated over and over again every- 
one of his sentences. This was a trick of his, 
which amused us considerably during the days 
we were under his care, but made conversation 
slow and unprofitable. As he collected his wits, 
he became more official. 

''So, two Englishmen, are they? They are 
two Englishman, they are. You 've brought 
two Englishmen. Well, well, well ! Where are 
their papers ? Have you got their papers ? You 
must give me their papers. They are not quite 
in order; no, no; they are not in order; no, they 
are not in order." 

The soldiers explained patiently that they 
were. 

''Well, well, well! Do they speak German? 
They speak German, I hope." To us: "Do 
you speak German? 

"Well, well, I must search you, my men. I 
must search you, I must; I must search you." 

"Hold on," said one of our escort, "the lieu- 
tenant says they are not to be searched. The 
lieutenant saw to that. And you 've got to do 
the best you can for them, and you are to put 
them in a cell together. Orders from the lieu- 
tenant ! ' ' 



THE GAME IS UP 229 

"Well, I must search them," repeated the 
warder helplessly. ''I must search them, you 
know; prison rules, you know. I must search 
them for concealed weapons !" 

"Nothing of the sort. They were searched, 
and we 've got orders to see that you don't 
bother them again." 

"Have you any knives, pistols, revolvers, or 
other weapons on you?" Stubbornly the 
warder had turned to us. The habit of years is 
not so easily discarded. 

"Oh, let 's give him our pocket-knives, "Wace, 
and get it over, ' ' I said, half laughing, half an- 
noyed. 

"Come into this room; come in here; come 
into this room. Now I '11 enter the articles in 
this book; yes, I '11 enter them in this book." 
He began to write, speaking the words aloud: 
"No 000000, one ivory-handled pocketknife. 
No. 000001, one horn-handled pocketknife. . . . 
Now, I '11 give them back to you when you 
leave, you see ; I '11 give them back to you when 
you leave; yes, I '11 give them back to you." 

"Yes, but we want to get back ourselves," 
said one of the soldiers. "Hurry up and show 
us their cell. We are to have a look at it, the 
lieutenant said. ' ' 



230 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

"All right, all right, all right! I 've got a 
single cell will do for the two of them; a single 
cell for the two ; yes, for the two. ' ' 

At last we were in the cell, which was of 
course as dark as the nether regions, having 
taken quite an affectionate farewell of our es- 
cort. 



PAET III 



CHAPTER XIX 

FOOTING THE BILL 

THE lieutenant at the station, by his orders 
to us and the soldiers, had given us the 
cue for our behavior. Obviously, we must try 
to impress the warder with our standing as 
*' military prisoners," in order to be as com- 
fortable as circumstances permitted. 

We proceeded to do this with great ingenuous- 
ness. Long arguments and counter-arguments 
secured us the use of an oil lamp until eight 
o'clock at night. We went in force to obtain a 
second blanket, the warder leading the proces- 
sion. 

Our cell was very small, and very dirty. 
What little space there ought to have been was 
taken up by stacks of old bicycle tires, which 
had been confiscated six months before by the 
Government to relieve the rubber famine in the 
army. 

During the three days we spent in Haltern 
prison we had no exercise at all. When the 
weather changed on the second day, and became 

233 



234 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

mild again, just about the time when we should 
have been close to the frontier if everything 
had gone well, we sulked with fate more than 
ever. 

The reported arrival of our escort on the eve- 
ning of the third day excited the warder to 
such an extent that he wanted us to get up at 
half -past five the next morning in order to catch 
a train about eight o'clock. We demurred, of 
course, and got our way, as usual. Ever since 
our arrest we had devoted a good deal of time 
to weighing the probability of being sent to a 
certain penal prison in Berlin. 

** Where are you going to take us?" Wallace 
and I blurted out simultaneously at two shad- 
owy soldiers in the dark passage of the prison 
the following morning. 

* ' To where you came from, the Stadtvogtei in 
Berlin," one of them replied. To say we felt 
relieved is putting it mildly. 

''We 'd better not take it for granted that 
we are going to stay there, though ! " I said, as 
we tramped through the melting slush to the 
station. 

Several hours later, after a change of trains, 
Wallace and I had been put temporarily into a 
compartment with other travelers, until it could 
be cleared for the exclusive use of ourselves and 



FOOTING THE BILL 235 

escort. Slipping into the only two empty seats, 
we found the burning interest of our fellow- 
travelers centered upon a man in the naval uni- 
form of the Zeppelin service, who was holding 
forth ahout his adventures over England. 
With extraordinary frankness he was recount- 
ing the names of a number of air-ship stations, 
and the number of Zeppelins usually detailed 
from each for attacks on Great Britain, and 
predicting another raid seven days later. 

''You give them h every time you fly 

across, don't you?" asked a civilian, leaning 
far forward in his seat. 

''Can't say that there is much to boast about 
of late," was the unexpected reply. "They 've 
plenty of guns, and can shoot quite as well as 
we. There won't be many more raids after 
the one coming off next week. ' ' 

As we saw in the German newspapers eight 
days later the raid took place as predicted, and 
it was the last air-ship raid for a very long 
time. 

To be in the company of a friend, and to have 
some money in my pocket, made all the differ- 
ence between this and my first return from the 
neighborhood of the Dutch frontier eight 
months before. We did ourselves quite well on 



236 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

the journey, trying to discount in this way the 
punishment awaiting us. 

At ten o'clock that evening we were welcomed 
to the Stadtvogtei by several of our old N. C. 
O.'s with roars of laughter, and conducted to 
two adjoining criminal cells in "Block 14," a 
long way from our friends. 

Before my eyes had become quite accustomed 
to the darkness, my cell door opened again, and 
our sergeant-major beckoned me to follow him. 

''Take your things with you!" he said, and 
led the way to another cell, farther along the 
corridor, to separate me from Wallace. 

* * Come out here ! I want to talk to you ! " he 
ordered, when I had dumped down my luggage. 
''Who had the key?" he shot at me when I stood 
opposite him in the corridor. 

We had expected this, and before our escape 
had rehearsed our answers to such questions in 
case one or more of us should be caught. 

' ' Key ? What key r ' I asked. 

'*The key to the front door, of course!" 

*'I don't know anything about a key." 

*'How did you get out, then? How did you 
open the door?" 

**We didn't open the door. We found it 
open. It seemed too good an opportunity, so 
we slipped out as we were. We weren't pre- 



FOOTING THE BILL 237 

pared at aU! But you ought to know all this 
as well as I do. Have n't you got your report 
from Haltern yet?" 

His manner changed. He became quite pa- 
ternal. He wasn't a bad chap. Anyway, he 
knew he couldn't screw anything out of us by 
turning rough. "Now, come! Don't try to 
hoodwink me. We know well enough it was S. 
who had the key." 

''Well, if you know, why do you ask me I" 

''Come on, tell me. It won't be to your dis- 
advantage! quite the reverse. Just say it was 
S." 

But of course I did nothing of the sort, and 
he gave it up. 

"We '11 give you a hard time of it, this 
journey," he threatened, rather mournfully. 
"Nothing but the prison food for you, no light 
of an evening. 

"I thought you had shaved off your beard," 
he remarked, before turning away. "I notified 
the police accordingly within the hour of your 
escape. We had all the stations watched. 
However did you slip out of Berlin?" 

"Oh, rather casually," I grinned. "Good- 
night, Major!" 

I felt by no means sprightly and unconcerned 
just then. I do not like solitary confinement. 



238 MY ESCAPE FEOM GERMANY 

The stretch in front of me bade fair to exceed 
in discomfort the first one I had had. Still, we 
were lucky to be in the Stadtvogtei, near our 
friends, where, apparently, we were going to 
stay. With this consolatory reflection I rolled 
myself into my blankets without undressing. 
The next day we were going to be de-loused. 

S. was arrested in Berlin on the morning 
following our arrival in prison, and lodged in a 
cell next to Wallace's before we went into the 
yard for our exercise that afternoon. If I am 
not mistaken, a telephone conversation, during 
which he had made an appointment with a 
''friend," had been listened to. Instead of a 
friend, a detective met S. 

He got the same punishment as we did. At 
the time of his escape a criminal action had been 
pending against him. A month after our soli- 
tary confinement had come to an end, he was 
taken to the court one morning by a policeman. 
A few hours later the policeman turned up alone, 
considerably the worse for drink, and shedding 
bitter tears. His charge had decamped through 
the rear window of a cafe where he had been 
treating his escort. We never saw him again. 
He was still at liberty in June, 1917, and ap- 
parently in Holland. 



FOOTING THE BILL 239 

G. was never captured. For several months 
rumors reached us that he had been seen here 
or there in Germany. I have not heard that he 
has arrived in England. 

The German with the English name went to 
see his mother one day, two months after his 
disappearance from prison. The police were 
watching her flat in Berlin, hoping for just that 
event. Their prey got a term of solitary con- 
finement in our prison, and was then drafted 
back into the army. 

The sixth man, the German stockbroker, fol- 
lowed S. by a few days only. He was kept in 
prison for a week, and then definitely set at 
liberty. 

On the evening of our second day in cells, we 
were warned not to go to bed, as our examina- 
tion was to take place at nine o 'clock. A quar- 
ter before the hour, S., Wallace, and I were 
taken down to the ground floor and thoughtfully 
locked into one cell, so that we were able to 
make the final arrangements for a consistent 
and uncontradictory account. This we did after 
a thorough inspection of the place which con- 
vinced us that no trap had been laid for us, and 
that we could talk freely until we should hear 
the key in the lock. 

The following morning we were told of the 



240 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

comment of Herr Kriegsgerichtsrat Wolf of the 
Kommandantur, who conducted the examina- 
tion, upon our respective stories : ' '■ Those Eng- 
lishmen have told me a pack of lies ! ' ' 

The threat of the sergeant-major had not been 
an empty one. We were forbidden to have any 
food apart from the prison rations. Every 
third day for four weeks these consisted only of 
bread and water, so far as we were concerned. 
The parcels arriving for us in the meantime — 
there were many of them, for Christmas was ap- 
proaching — were handed to our friends for safe- 
keeping. We were debarred from the use of 
artificial light in our cells. It being within a 
month from the shortest day in the year, this 
was rather *'off." The dawn did not peep 
through the small windows before nine o'clock, 
and when we returned from the yard in the aft- 
ernoon, it was again too dark to read. I think 
it took the authorities ten days to relent on 
the question of light. We then got the use of 
an oil lamp up to eight o 'clock every night. 

I feel quite sure that we had to thank the lieu- 
tenant for the extra punishment of criminal 
cells, prison food, and no light. He must have 
been badly rattled about our escaping, and his 
superiors may have been ungentle with him 



FOOTING THE BILL 241 

when he reported it. Naturally, he took it out 
on us, though to our faces he was quite polite. 

The question of food was solved to our com- 
plete satisfaction within three days. Our 
friends knew, of course, that we were going for 
our exercise every afternoon at three o'clock. 
From the very beginning they were able to pass 
us sandwiches and small cans of food. 

Not without a little difficulty the N. C. 0. in 
charge of our corridor had been persuaded that 
' ' they are allowed to have their newspapers, of 
course." His referring the question to higher 
authority had been discouraged. Why bother 
busy men with trifles 1 The newspaper man was 
one of us. He brought the papers round every 
morning, when the cell doors were opened for 
cleaning purposes, and also every afternoon. 
Frequently he did not exchange a word with us 
but simply pushed the papers into the blankets 
of our beds. After he had gone, sandwiches 
and a beer bottle full of hot tea seemed to have 
been hatched miraculously among our bed- 
clothes. 

The last and crowning achievement was the 
ventilator dodge. The ventilator was a square 
hole in the wall above the door, inclined toward 
the cell. Just after our dinner time, when the 
N. C. 0. on duty was likely to be otherwise em- 



242 MY ESCAPE FEOM GERMANY 

ployed, stealthy footsteps might have been heard 
passing rapidly along the balcony. Very fre- 
quently they were inaudible even to our strained 
ears. The scraping of tin against stone was a 
signal for us to hurl ourselves toward the door, 
to catch the Lyle's syrup can, filled with hot 
meat and vegetables, or soup, which was sliding 
through the ventilator. 

None of the N. C. O.'s knew about this. They 
marveled at our physical endurance, which per- 
mitted us to retain a flourishing appearance in 
the face of starvation. Sagely they counseled 
the taking of medicine, or soap for instance, to 
make us look weak and pale just before our ''sol- 
itary" was to terminate. "It '11 never do to be 
seen with bulging cheeks and bursting seams by 
anybody in command. ' ' 

The chance of seeing old friends, if only for a 
few seconds every day, the knowledge that I 
should have their companionship again as soon 
as our punishment was over, and the fact that 
I was in familiar surroundings, lessened the de- 
pressing effect of my solitary confinement this 
second time. Wallace, too, kept in fairly good 
spirits. Nevertheless, I came to the conclusion 
that the game was not worth the candle. I told 



FOOTING THE BILL 243 

"Wallace of my decision as soon as I conld. 
When we were again in front of the gate I quali- 
fied it: ^' Never again, Wace, never again — 
except during the mild seasons, and when the 
chances are as good as I can make 'em." 

On Christmas Eve, the thirty-fourth day of 
our punishment, we were liberated, but we had 
to sleep in the criminal cells for some time after- 
ward. 

In time, however, Wallace got the single cell 
he coveted, and I, after three weeks, again 
joined my old friends in the big cell. For a 
fortnight dear old K. was the fourth man. 
Then he was sent to Ruhleben. Wallace was the 
fifth member of the mess, a sort of day-boarder. 

A week after K. had left us, most of the Eng- 
lishmen got into trouble. As a punitive meas- 
ure we were ejected from the large common 
cells, and C, L., Wallace, and I were lodged as 
far apart as possible. C. and I were warned to 
be ready to go to a penitentiary. W. received 
''solitary" for an indefinite time. Another 
fortnight, and all our intimate friends were sent 
back to Euhleben. Only those members of the 
English colony who preferred prison to the 
camp, and four escapers, who had made two at- 
tempts, remained in the Stadtvogtei — ten in all. 



244 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

But for Dr. Beland and one other prisoner, Wal- 
lace and I were almost confined to each other's 
society. 

We had a fairly miserable time of it. The 
loss of most of our companions had unsettled 
us. To crown our misery, we were officially in- 
formed that we could not hope ever to be re- 
turned to camp, or even a camp, as we were con- 
sidered dangerous to the German Empire. 

The announcement ought to have made us 
feel rather proud. As we knew it to be only 
one of their specious arguments, it did nothing 
of the sort. Very soon I left it entirely out of 
my calculations. Wallace did not, however, but 
continued to attach importance to it. I must 
say this, in order to explain my later attitude 
toward another attempt to escape from prison. 
In the course of months I grew more and more 
convinced that we should go back to camp one 
day. Then would come our chance! I cannot 
explain my conviction. It was a ''hunch." 

Our belief, however, that we should have to 
wait did not serve as an excuse for inaction. 
Wallace and I pushed our preparations for the 
next escape as fast as possible, which was in- 
credibly slow. 



FOOTING THE BILL 245 

Our mainstay was an N. C. 0. employed in the 
office. He was a queer individual, one of the 
plausible sort. His favorite saying character- 
ized him sufficiently: " Eine Hand waescM die 
andere [one hand must wash the other]." His 
saving grace was the entirely frank attitude as 
to his outlook upon life and its obligations — 
lack of obligations, in his case. Through him 
we were able to take one great step forward — 
to procure maps. In the first part of this vol- 
ume I have mentioned that the sale of maps to 
persons without a permit from the General Staff 
was forbidden in Prussia. According to the 
statement of our friend he got us the maps we 
wanted from a "relative" of his, who happened 
to be a bookseller. *'He had these maps in 
stock and had forgotten to register them." 
One or two of them were indeed slightly shop- 
soiled. They were good maps, covering a part 
of Germany from Berlin, and including it to the 
Dutch frontier. Their price — ^well, it made 
my eyes water. They were worth it, though. 
For a prisoner of war the collection must have 
been unique. We each had a compass. 

Chiefly on my advocacy we, postponed the 
start again and again. The chances of getting 
away from prison were, to my mind, infinitesi- 
mally small. One attempt by another party 



246 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

early in May was cleverly nipped in the bud. 
Our last attempt had not encouraged me to 
trust to luck, but I clung to my belief in a re- 
turn to Ruhleben, which appeared as unlikely 
as ever, on the face of things. Once, however, 
we were ready to go, but almost at the last min- 
ute the help we had reckoned upon was not 
forthcoming. 

Among the men who had tried their luck in 
May, 1917, were two who, very pluckily, had 
started to walk the whole distance between Ruh- 
leben and the Dutch border. Unsuitable maps, 
in the first place, had been their undoing. They 
both spoke German — one like a native, the other 
not so well. They do not wish to be known, so, 
for the purpose of this narrative I will call them 
Kent and Tynsdale. 

Tynsdale is a friend of mine. His pal Kent and he 
are good men. Do your best for them. — X. 

This, penciled on a slip of paper and ad- 
dressed to Wallace and me, was given to us by 
Tynsdale soon after his arrival. The brief 
phrase did not overstate their merits. 

Tynsdale was small, wiry, and, at times, very 
reticent; Kent, tall, bulky, and — not reticent. 
In due course we came to live in a large cell 
together. They were as eager as were Wallace 



FOOTING THE BILL 247 

and I for a new venture, but they were quite 
determined not to break prison. The informa- 
tion they gave us about Buhleben from the es- 
caper's point of view strengthened my preju- 
dices against this course. 

''Let 's wait a little longer. The weather will 
be favorable until October. If our hopes should 
sortie. Before it comes to that, something may 
prove vain, we can always make a desperate 
happen." This was the final conclusion we ar- 
rived at. 

Something did happen — several things, in 
fact. 

The first was an unexpected visit from a rep- 
resentative of the Dutch Legation in Berlin. 
It found us well prepared with an impressive 
protest against being kept in prison any longer. 
The same evening I confirmed the interview in 
two identical and rather lengthy letters, to 
which almost all of us, including the five men 
then in ''solitary," subscribed their signatures. 

One of these letters was delivered to the Dutch 
Minister by'hand*twenty-f our hours after it had 
left the Stadtvogtei in the pocket of a person 
entirely unconnected with the postal service, 
military or otherwise. Consequently the Ger- 
man censor had no chance of perusing it. The 
other passed through the ordinary channels un- 



248 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

til it was, presumably, decently buried in the 
censor's waste-basket. 

A little later, German newspapers mentioned 
tbe fact that negotiations about the treatment 
of prisoners of war had taken place at The 
Hague, and that an agreement had been come 
to which was now awaiting ratification by the 
governments of Great Britain and Germany. 

It so happened that at this time we had un- 
usual facilities for the secret purchase of Eng- 
lish newspapers. In a copy of the ''Daily Tele- 
graph" we read that the agreement had been 
ratified. Another week passed and a copy of 
the same paper contained paragraphs concern- 
ing civilian prisoners of war. The report of a 
speech in the House of Lords by Lord Newton, 
I believe, either in the same paper or in some 
other bought at the same time, helped us to in- 
terpret these paragraphs so far as they seemed 
to refer to cases like ours. At any rate, it gave 
us a talking-point in favor of an interpretation 
as we should have liked it, and announced fur- 
ther that the agreement had become operative 
in England on August 1, 1917, already a few 
days past. 

A memorial in the shape of two letters ad- 
dressed to the Dutch Minister in Berlin was 
the immediate result of reading these articles. 



FOOTING THE BILL 249 

The letters went the same way as the former 
ones, and drew a good deal of good-natured 
chaff upon my head about '^ writing-sickness," 
''Secretary for Foreign Affairs," and charges 
to be made for every signature I came to col- 
lect in future. 

Tynsdale and Kent had not been away from 
camp more than three months. They knew all 
the ins and outs of it, including a good deal of 
information not usually shouted from the house- 
tops. Wallace and I, after an absence of thirty 
and seventeen months respectively, were com- 
parative strangers to Ruhleben. 

"Will you two come with Wallace and me?" 
I asked our new friends one day. "I should 
like to have your help in getting out of camp, ' ' 
I explained. ''Later on I can probably be as 
useful to you." And I referred to my record 
as an escaper, to my equipment, and to my maps. 
They assented. They knew from previous dis- 
cussions that I was not entirely in sympathy 
with their proposed route ; or, rather, I had ex- 
plained to them what I thought to be the advan- 
tages of a route I had in mind, which were con- 
firmed by their own information. 

As it appeared desirable that each member 
of the proposed expedition should be fully 
equipped as far as essentials were concerned, 



250 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

we set to work feverishly making tracings of 
parts of our maps. We had to finish this work 
while still in prison, because it would not be 
possible to secure sufficient privacy in Ruhle- 
ben for this kind of thing. Fortunately I had 
anticipated something like this months before, 
and possessed some colored inks and drawing- 
pens. Tracing-paper T manufactured from thin, 
strong white paper, which I treated with olive- 
oil and benzene. We finished three copies be- 
fore we left prison, the original making the 
fourth. 

On the 23rd of August, 1917, a strong guard 
of policemen escorted a highly elated batch of 
British civilian prisoners through a part of Ber- 
lin, then by rail to Spandau, and again, per 
pedes apostolorum, to Ruhleben camp. We 
were nineteen in all. 

Four Britishers stayed behind voluntarily; 
five more were in ** solitary," having recently 
tried to escape and failed. Among the latter 
was our old friend L. 



CHAPTER XX 

RUHLEBEN AGAIN" 

WE arrived in Ruhleben shortly before 
noon, and were kept waiting for a long 
time just inside the gates, for the good of our 
souls. But then, the under dogs are always 
kept waiting somewhere for the good of their 
souls. So that was all right. 

When our names had been called a number of 
times, and some supposedly witty remarks had 
been made by a sergeant, whose reputation in 
camp was no better than it should be, we were 
marched off to our barracks (No. 14), a wooden 
one, and the last one toward the eastern end of 
the camp, next to the "Tea House." 

Part of it was divided off by a solid partition 
and enclosed by a separate wire fence. This 
was the punishment place of the camp, called 
"the Bird Cage." 

The other and larger part was empty; 
had, in fact, been cleared that morning for our 
reception, much to the disgust of the former in- 
habitants, who had been very comfortable in 

251 



252 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

their home-made cubicles and corners. Now 
the place was absolutely bare, except for the lit- 
ter of broken shelves and partitions on the floor. 

We were still contemplating it doubtfully 
when we received our orders: ''Beds will ar- 
rive presently. They are to be placed in two 
rows in the center of the barracks. Nothing 
shall be hung on the walls, or the beams and 
supports. No partitions or corners will be 
allowed. The barracks is to be kept bare, so 
that the inmates can be seen at any hour of 
the night. The electric light is to be kept burn- 
ing all night and must not be obscured in any 
way." Thus ran the gist of them. 

We were pretty wroth. ''Call that a return 
to the privileges and liberties of an ordinary 
prisoner of war?" rang our complaint. 

At night our indignation broke forth again. 
We had to be in bed by 10 p. m. At 10 :45 a 
patrol of three privates and an N. C. 0. came 
to count us, tramping noisily round and round 
in their ammunition boots, over the bare wooden 
floor. Not much to complain about in that. 
But they repeated it six times during the night, 
and that was distinctly ' ' off. ' ' For many of us, 
sleep, even during the intervals, was difficult on 
account of the glaring brightness of the electric 
light. 



RUHLEBEN AGAIN 253 

Our barracks captain protested strongly to 
the captain of the camp. So did virtually 
every member of the barracks privately, and 
gradually this nuisance abated. The six times 
we were disturbed dwindled down to four, then 
to three; and sometimes we were inspected 
only twice, when the patrol considerately kept 
outside and counted us through the windows. 

Our reception in Euhleben was rather flat- 
tering. I do not know how many new acquaint- 
ances I made during the first fortnight ; several 
hundred, I should think. Now and again, inevi- 
tably, I met a. man who immediately told me 
what he would have done ' ' if I had been in your 
shoes and got as far as you. They would never 
have brought me back alive ! ' ' 

I had only to look at my barracks companions 
to see that we bore the prison stamp, and the 
remarks of my friends did not give me a chance 
to forget my own appearance. Compared with 
the Ruhlebenites proper, we looked more like 
animated corpses than living beings. Our faces 
were ashen gray, even our lips had paled. The 
skin around our eyes remained drawn and puck- 
ered, until the eyes had accustomed themselves 
again to the strong light of the open sky. 

Prison life had taken its toll of our vitality, 



254 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

particularly among the long-timers. For a few 
hours the fresh air acted upon us like heady 
wine, and during the following days it simply 
sapped our strength. 

Kent and Tynsdale were in comparatively 
good condition. Wallace was bad, but had an 
appetite, and recovered quickly. I was the 
worst of the four. My physical condition did 
not make me a desirable companion for an ar- 
duous venture, and since we found it impossible 
to ''make a move" at once, as we had intended, I 
deliberately set myself to repairing the damage 
as quickly as I could. I took plenty of rest, and, 
avoiding any but the gentlest exercise, grew 
gradually stronger. About the middle of the 
second week I started some very mild training. 

Yet I still remained nervous and distraught ; 
more so than my companions, who showed signs 
of the same trouble. It was, however, merely 
the nervousness of inaction, for I was eager to 
start. The camp was not even as desirable as 
we had pictured it. Barracks No. 14 was far 
less comfortable in every respect than the bar- 
racks we had called our own before we made our 
first attempt. Everything was dirty, and we 
missed our accustomed privacy. The two daily 
roll-calls, which took place on the playing-field 
at seven o'clock in the morning and again 



RUHLEBEN AGAIN 255 

twelve hours later, were an unmitigated nui- 
sance. 

What, then, could be more tempting than to 
woo Fortune again? If she proved fickle, we 
would go back to the Stadtvogtei. Under the 
new arrangement the punishment for a ' ' simple 
escape" by a military prisoner was to be a fort- 
night's imprisonment. At first we interpreted 
the paragraph as applying to civilian prisoners 
also. Now we had become more doubtful about 
it. Our friends, who had been sent to prison 
after the 1st of August, had more than doubly 
exceeded the stipulated time before we left the 
camp. What more likely than that the Germans 
would treat the agreement as another ''scrap of 
paper" and send us to comfortable winter quar- 
ters, if we were caught ? 

We had intended to start within a few days of 
our arrival in camp. This we found impossible, 
but for two reasons the delay was fortunate. It 
permitted us to recruit our health and get ac- 
customed to the open air, and it brought us 
nearer to the time of the new moon in the middle 
of September. 

About a week after our arrival, Wallace de- 
cided not to come with us. For months he had 
had a plan of his own, which recommended itself 



256 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

neither to Tynsdale, Kent, nor me. He rather 
liked the idea of playing a lone hand, and his 
strong desire to see a little more of his friends 
in Ruhleben finally decided him. Tynsdale, 
Kent, and I ''carried on." 

Our plans were simple enough, once we had 
got out of camp. First of all we intended to 
make for Berlin. From the capital a railway 
journey of about twenty hours (including a 
break of seven) was to take us to a small town 
in the northwestern part of Germany, sixty kilo- 
meters from the Dutch frontier as the crow flies. 
From there we intended to walk, the distance by 
road being rather more than seventy miles. 
One considerable river would have to be crossed, 
we did not quite know how, but we were all 
fairly powerful swimmers. 

Tynsdale 's knowledge of German was not 
good enough to make it possible for him to 
travel on the railway without a companion to do 
the talking. Kent, his particular chum, was 
more than willing to take the risk of being Tyns- 
dale 's courier, and proposed that he and his 
friend should always travel in one compartment, 
while I traveled alone in another. This ar- 
rangement was obviously unfair. Granted the 
wisdom of traveling in two parties, Kent would 
be taking the greater risk all the time. We 



RUHLEBEN AGAIN 257 

finally agreed that Tynsdale was to be alter- 
nately in Kent's and my charge. 

We had maps and compasses. I had a water- 
bottle and a knapsack, and Kent obtained an- 
other knapsack in camp. A third and two 
water-bottles would have to be bought en route. 

Ordinary wearing apparel, dictated by the 
railway journey, we had; also sufficient under- 
clothes for cold weather, and two thick overcoats 
between us. Two oilsilks of mine would pro- 
tect my friends on rainy days. I insisted on 
carrying a heavy naval oilskin, sufficiently large 
to make a decent ground-cloth for the three of 
us. If possible, we intended carrying food for 
ten days; cabin-biscuits, dripping, compressed 
beef, chocolate, cocoa-and-milk powder, sugar, 
and raisins. 

A friend of mine, whom I have mentioned sev- 
eral times in this narrative, spoke to me one 
morning. ''Take," he began oracularly and 
with a twinkle in his eye, "a pound of real 
Scotch oatmeal, a pound of dripping, and a 
pound of sugar. Mix well. Roll out the dough 
until it is about three quarters of an inch thick, 
and bake it in a hot oven for four hours. The 
result will resemble shortbread. It is im- 
mensely sustaining. That it will crumble easily 
into a coarse powder need concern you only in 



258 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

so far as you will have to carry it suitably 
wrapped. Handkerchiefs will do. At a pinch, 
a cake per day, smaller than your hand, will keep 
you going indefinitely. And," he added read- 
ily, * ' if you '11 give me the material, I '11 do them 
for you. But mind you chew 'em well when 
you eat 'em. It '11 take some time to masticate 
them properly. You must do that, to get the 
full benefit of the oatmeal. ' ' 

The square cakes, a little smaller than the 
palm of a man's hand, which he handed to us in 
a parcel a few days after, were rather heavy for 
their size. We thought of carrying ten per man, 
reduced the biscuits to two per day, and dis- 
carded meat and cocoa altogether. 

To carry all this during the railway journey, 
we had a cheap German portmanteau, which I 
had bought for this purpose in prison, and two 
small leather hand-bags. As to money, I was 
fairly well supplied. My companions got hold 
of smaller sums, and between us we had enough 
even for an emergency. 

In the meantime we managed to be seen to- 
gether as little as possible. Escaping was in 
the air. Two attempts from other barracks 
failed during the first fortnight. What was 
worse for us, three men from our barracks took 



EUHLEBEN AGAIN 259 

the bit in their teeth and went one night. They 
were in cells again before dawn. 

The camp authorities were wide awake and 
slowly strengthened the guards. More police 
dogs were reported to be arriving almost daily. 
(I doubt whether these reports were correct.) 
N. C. 0. 's patrolled the sentries incessantly, or 
concealed themselves and watched places for 
hours where they thought fugitives would pass. 
As long as we knew beforehand where these 
places were this did not matter much, but it 
certainly increased my nervousness and impa- 
tience. I believe I was a sore trial to my friends 
with my incessant, irrational pleading for 
''something to be done." 

Kent and Tynsdale had made their first es- 
cape from camp by simply bribing the sentry at 
the gate and one other, and walking out. We 
had hoped to repeat this performance. Both 
these sentries were still in camp on guard-duty. 
Immediately after our arrival we sounded them 
as to their willingness to earn a few hundred 
marks easily. We did not do this ourselves, 
but made use of the good offices of a friend of 
Tynsdale 's, who had extensive dealings of a 
different nature with the two German soldiers 
and who could bring a good deal of pressure to 
bear on them. To appreciate the importance of 



260 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

the help he rendered us, it must be remembered 
that no soldier was allowed to talk with a pris- 
oner. It would have been difficult for us to es- 
tablish direct communication with the two sol- 
diers. Not only was the punishment barracks 
least suited for anything like secret meetings, 
but its inmates were kept under more continuous 
surveillance than the rest of the interned. 

The two soldiers were quite willing to do busi- 
ness, but maintained that the most they could do 
was to take an entirely passive part. The old, 
easy way was out of the question. The camp 
authorities were too suspicious of the existence 
of irregularities among the guards and of the 
danger of fresh attempts now that the ''gang" 
was back in camp. "If we get certain posts, we 
won't challenge during a specified time," was 
what the soldiers gave us to understand. 

The situation became worse when pne of these 
soldiers was suddenly sent to the front. His 
manifold activities for the benefit of the prison- 
ers — pa3^ment being made with English food — 
had at last got him into trouble. The other 
man, his associate in most of the deals, went 
about expecting the same fate and became quite 
intractable for a few days. As nothing hap- 
pened to him, he gradually assumed his normal 
state of mind. 



RUHLEBEN AGAIN 261 

We intended to leave camp at the western 
corner. This was farther removed from the 
escapers' barracks and nearest to Spandau. 
Our route was to lead us through part of Span- 
dau. 

A box in Barracks No. 8 was our headquar- 
ters. There our equipment was kept, and there 
we intended to dress. 

The windows in the loft of Barracks No. 4 
gave upon the enclosure of the Visitors' Bar- 
racks. They were about two feet square and 
covered with wire netting which could easily be 
removed. As the loft of this barracks was di- 
vided into a large number of small cubicles, only 
the inhabitants of one cubicle needed to be taken 
into our confidence to any extent. They under- 
took with alacrity to have everything ready at a 
few hour's notice, including the rope we should 
have to descend by. Once in the enclosure of 
the Visitors' Barracks we should have only one 
wire fence to climb to get into the space between 
this and the outer wooden fence. The wire 
fences consisted of strong chicken-wire with 
barbed-wire strands along the top. They were 
about eight feet high. The wooden fence ex- 
tended only a little way. The rest had been 
destroyed by a fire which had occurred in camp 
in June of that year. Along part of the way 



262 MY ESCAPE FEOM GERMANY 

we should be partially protected from the view 
of the sentries by the wooden fence and the 
structures about us. 

There was a sunken path which was well 
lighted by electricity, and well guarded. The 
sentries walked on top of a bank and were able 
to see most of the space between the wire and 
the wooden fence. Post No. 2 was at the corner 
of the wooden fence, where the path met the 
road which ran along the front of the camp, and 
extended along the path for about seventy 
yards. Then came Post No. 3. The end of the 
wooden fence was nearer to the road than to the 
other end of Post No. 2. 

The attempt was to be made when our man 
was on duty. He was to be deaf and blind. 
This would leave us free to concentrate our at- 
tention upon Post No. 3. 

' ' Next Sunday ! ' ' Kent told me at length on a 
Friday. ' ' Are you ready 1 ' ' 

''Good heavens, man, I 've been ready these 
two weeks past!" Then I began to ruminate: 
"Sunday? That's rather awkward!" 

"It is, but do you think we ought to delay it 
on that account ? " 

"No, certainly not! Does Tynsdale realize 
the state of affairs 1 ' ' 



RUHLEBEN AGAIN 263 

''Haven't discussed them with him. If we 
two come to an agreement, he '11 be sure to take 
the same view. ' ' 

There were two objections to the day pro- 
posed — one because it was a Sunday, which 
made getting into Berlin rather risky, the other 
because it happened to be the 16th of Septem- 
ber, which made getting away from the capital 
additionally difficult. 

As to Sunday, food was scarce in Germany, 
especially in the capital, and illegal trading was 
rife. Every Sunday the inhabitants flocked 
into the country in multitudes to buy farm prod- 
uce from the peasants direct, offering prices 
much higher than those fixed by law. To stop 
this, the police frequently detained passengers 
who were traveling into town on the trunk and 
local railways, in the Underground, and on 
trams, and inspected their baggage. A search 
of our bags and bundles would mean immediate 
arrest. 

Secondly, at 2 a.m. on the 17th of September 
— the Monday after the day we had chosen — 
summer time was to change to astronomical 
time. Consequently, trains all over the country 
would leave independently of the printed time- 
tables during several hours before and after the 



264 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

hands of the clocks were moved back. Thus we 
could not be sure whether or not we could catch 
the train we had selected. 

We came to the conclusion that we should have 
to risk it. But could we not minimize the first, 
the greater of the two risks, by reducing the 
amount of our luggage? ''We '11 take only one 
of the small hand-bags, discard these and these 
articles, and carry food for six days only," we 
decided. 

The amount of food which we finally took with 
us worked out per man per day as follows : a bar 
of chocolate, two small cabin-biscuits with drip- 
ping, one cake of the famous "escapers' short- 
bread," two or three pieces of sugar, and half a 
dozen raisins. A tin of Horlick's malted milk 
tablets was carried in reserve, and also a small 
flask of brandy. 



CHAPTER XXI 

THE DAY 

ON the 16th of September, 1917, our man 
was on guard at Post No. 2 from 7 till 9 
P.M. and again four hours later. He had in- 
structions to expect something between 8 and 9 
o'clock, or, failing that, during his next shift. 
The latter part of his instructions had been an 
afterthought. It was part and parcel of our 
plan to catch the train from the Lehrter Bahn- 
hof in Berlin at 11:47 p.m. It would have in- 
convenienced us very considerably if we had 
had to delay our departure. If everything went 
satisfactorily as far as the sentry was con- 
cerned, he was to receive his reward the follow- 
ing morning, no matter what happened to us. 

That evening we were to be counted for the 
last time that season at 7 o'clock. The roll-call 
took place on the playing-field in the center of 
the race-course. This was outside the strongly 
protected camp proper, and it was beginning to 
be too dark, at the hour mentioned, to let the 

265 



266 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

prisoners outside of any of the three wire fences 
surrounding it. 

As soon as the ranks broke after passing back 
into the inner camp enclosure, we made our way 
casually and separately to Barracks No. 8. The 
box we entered was quite deserted. Two of its 
inhabitants could be seen talking near one of the 
entrances to the barracks, from where they 
could hail any chance visitor who might intend 
to look them up in their quarters. We dressed 
as rapidly as possible, yet were somewhat later 
in getting ready than we had expected to be. 
Our baggage had been taken to the selected 
cubicle in the loft of Barracks No. 4 during the 
afternoon by men not specially interested in our 
venture. 

The cubicle of our friends was in darkness. 
The open window opposite the wood-framed 
pasteboard door admitted a faint rose-gray 
after-glow from the western sky. The confined 
space seemed crowded with dimly seen forms 
who whispered that all was ready. 

Somewhat perversely, I thought, Tynsdale 
suddenly demanded that I accompany him "to 
have a look at the gate." It was a double gate, 
plentifully protected by barbed wire, which gave 
entrance to the enclosure of the Visitors' Bar- 
racks during the weekly half -hour when visitors 



THE DAY 267 

were allowed to see the prisoners. Without 
heeding my protest in the least he disappeared, 
and I had to follow after. 

''I think we had better climb over the gate 
instead of dropping from the window," was all 
he answered to my questions about his unex- 
pected vagary. To my somewhat heated oppo- 
sition against any alteration in our oft- and well- 
considered course of action he turned a deaf ear, 

"I 'm going to climb over here," he an- 
nounced truculently after a brief inspection, and 
almost immediately began to suit the action to 
his words. As little attention as he had paid to 
me, he paid less to some twenty or thirty men, 
mostly sailors, who were lounging near the spot. 
And then a very fine thing happened. As soon 
as these men saw what Tynsdale was up to, and 
without any perceptible hesitancy, they began 
walking carelessly about and around him, shield- 
ing his activities in this fashion more effectively 
than they could have done by any other means. 
As for myself, I hurried back to the loft. 

''Come on," I whispered breathlessly to Kent, 
"quick! Tynsdale is climbing over the gate. 
He 's stark, staring mad." I grasped the rope, 
squeezed through the window, and was in such 
a hurry to get down that I let the rope slide 
through my fingers. Naturally a good deal of 



268 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

skin stuck to the rope. I landed with a bump 
and had just time to roll out of the way as 
Kent's two hundred pounds came crashing after 
me. We got up, both with smarting palms, 
while overcoats seemed to be raining from 
the window above. We managed to catch 
the two grips as they fell. During all this 
time we could hear Tynsdale making a terrific 
din among the wires. As soon as he had nego- 
tiated the first two obstacles he started to 
overcome the third fence, while Kent and I 
carried our paraphernalia to the foot of it. 
Then Kent went over the top, and I heaved 
the things over to Tynsdale, who stood ready 
to receive them. Kent was a heavy man, and 
he appeared to me more than a little awk- 
ward at that moment. How he ever managed 
to get over the fence without bringing the whole 
guard about our ears I cannot yet understand. 
My own performance probably sounded as bad 
to them. 

As I let go my last hold, a stage-whisper from 
the window about fifteen yards away, reached 
our ears, "Drop, you fools, drop!" The men 
in the loft could see the sentries over the top of 
the intervening low wooden barracks. To judge 
from the suppressed excitement in their voices 



THE DAY 269 

one of the sentries must have been coming our 
way with much determination. 

A patch of weeds on our left was the only- 
cover near us. Grabbing the second portman- 
teau, which was still lying near the fence, I dived 
for it headlong and fell down beside Kent. 
Tynsdale, who had gone forward, beat a hasty 
retreat toward us and disappeared from view 
on Kent's other side. 

There we lay, out of breath, and dangerously 
near the lower end. I did not dare to raise my 
head even, and then after a long, long interval, 
the suppressed voices sounded again, straight 
from heaven: ''All clear. Go ahead." 

We reached the end of the wooden fence. 
The enemy sentry was nowhere to be seen. A 
few quick, long steps carried us across the 
sunken path, into the potato-field and beyond 
the circle of the glaring electric lights. Kent 
was in the lead. Suddenly he dropped, and we 
followed his example just as the gate of the 
soldiers' barracks, perhaps fifty yards on our 
left, clicked open. Then it slammed shut. 

Potato-vines offer very good cover for a man 
in a prone position. It was dark, too. But, ly- 
ing there, I had the uncomfortable feeling that 
some large and conspicuous part of my anatomy 



270 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

must be sticking out into plain view. I flattened 
myself as much as possible and vainly tried to 
decrease my bulk by general muscular contrac- 
tion, but seemed to swell to ever greater di- 
mensions. When I lifted my head after some 
time I saw two round gray-and-black objects 
above the potatoes. These were my compan- 
ions. We had all given way to the same impulse 
at the same time. Nothing menacing was to be 
seen. Silently we got to our feet and shortly 
after gained the road. 

From now on we were to play the parts of 
harmless German civilians, and consequently 
the need for silence had passed. ''Wliat made 
that gate open and slam?" I asked Kent. ^'I 
did n't take the time to look, myself." 

''Two soldiers came out of the barracks and 
went toward camp." 

''Well, it 's all right, I suppose. You know 
this road. You lead." 

Kent turned and walked off, closely followed 
by Tynsdale and me. We had not taken many 
steps when I suddenly saw the end of a cigarette 
glow up in the dark ahead of us. Kent hesi- 
tated, stopped, and whispered to us. 

"Oh, go on!" I answered irritably. "We 
can 't stop here. ' ' Kent walked on and past two 
soldiers standing by the roadside. They 



THE DAY 271 

stepped forward, barring our way. I made as 
if to pass them, but tliey did not move aside. to 
make room. 

''What are you doing here?" one of them 
asked. 

''What do you want?" I countered. 

"We want to know who you are and where 
you come from." 

"What right have you to stop us in this fash- 
ion and ask us questions ? ' ' 

"What do you mean by stopping anybody on 
a public road?" Kent's voice amplified my ques- 
tion. I had not noticed that he had turned and 
joined our group. "This is a public road, you 
know." 

Tynsdale, who could not speak German very 
well, kept discreetly behind Kent and me and 
felt, no doubt, as if he were intruding. 

"This is n't an ordinary public road. There 
is an English prison camp down that way. Our 
instructions are to keep an eye on the traffic 
along here, what there is of it." It was always 
the same man who was doing the talking. His 
statement sounded a little odd to me since 
neither he nor his companion was conspicu- 
ously armed, and neither one wore a helmet, two 
signs that they were not on duty. "Unless you 
have a passport or can establish your identity by 



272 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

some other means you will have to come with 
lis, so we can make sure who you are." 

*'No, I haven't a passport," I said slowly. 
*'You don't always require one just walking 
back and forth from your work. ' ' I was trying 
to think of the right thing to do or to say, and 
particularly whether to risk about ten years in 
a penitentiary, if the only move which seemed 
open to us should fail. 

"Oh, anything will do," the soldier continued, 
"an envelop addressed to you, for example." 

I had made up my mind. "Right. I '11 give 
you something. Here 's my passport," and I 
handed him a one-hundred-mark bill from my 
pocket-book. 

The soldier looked at the bill, then at me. He 
poked his companion in the ribs with his elbow 
and showed it to him. 

"See what that fellow calls a passport? Is 
that all right?" 

"That 's all right," said the other. 

"Boy, boy! You are some guys, you are! 
Say, are you only going for a night in Berlin, or 
are you not coming back ? ' ' 

"That is as it may be," I told him. 

"Say, what barracks are you fellows from?" 

"You need n't worry about that yet. You '11 
hear all about that in the morning." 



THE DAY 273 

* * Oh, all right ! But you beat it now, quick ! ' ' 
and they turned to go. But I had an idea of 
making further use of them. 

''Say," I called, ''we want to get into Span- 
dau. Is it likely that we shall be stopped? 
Are there many sentries about there? Which 
is the best road to take?" 

"Plenty. Walk straight on and then turn to 
your left across the railway." They went 
away. 

When I looked about for the grip, which I 
had put down in order to get at my pocket-book, 
I found it gone. Kent had walked on. Tyns- 
dale was still hovering close to me. 

"Where 's that portmanteau?" I asked him 
excitedly. ' ' I put it down here. ' ' 

"I don't know," he answered. "Didn't see 
it at all. Where did you put it down ? ' ' 

For a few seconds we looked underneath the 
bushes without success. "A man who will take 
a bribe will steal, ' ' was a not unnatural conclu- 
sion to come to. 

"Wait a minute," I flung over my shoulder, 
and started in hot pursuit after the two soldiers. 
It was the larger of our two grips that was 
missing, containing the most important part of 
our equipment. 

"What the hell do you want now? " is the way 



274 MY ESCAPE FEOM GERMANY 

they received me. Neither one of them was car- 
rying anything. 

**0h, nothing," I replied airily. Being un- 
able to catch them in the act I dared not take 
the risk of accusing them. ^'I thought I had 
lost something," I said. 

The one who spoke muttered something 
threateningly. They were naturally very anx- 
ious to get rid of us now. 

''Come along," I said to Tynsdale, resignedly, 
when I had rejoined him. ''We 've got to make 
the best of it." A little farther down the road 
Kent was waiting for us in the shadow of a 
bush, with both grips. He had picked mine up 
when he started to walk ahead and had caused 
me a few bad moments. Here, we brushed our- 
selves with our hands and handkerchiefs. A 
short walk through wide, deserted streets, most 
of them flanked by factory buildings, proved 
pleasantly unexciting. 

It was still early in the evening, but the wide 
thoroughfare of Spandau, not far from the rail- 
way station, was deserted, except for a small 
group of people between two tall light-stand- 
ards, who, like us, were waiting for a tram to 
Berlin. The arc-lights fizzed slightly now and 
again, and cast fleeting purple shadows over the 



THE DAY 275 

island, which served as a platform for the 
tram-cars. 

We three stood a little apart, occasionally ex- 
changing a word or two in German. We were 
hot with excitement and exertion. I was carry- 
ing the large portmanteau and an overcoat over 
my arm. Kent had the other bag, Tynsdale an 
oilsilk wrapped in his overcoat. 

The first tram was crowded, but a second, im- 
mediately behind, was only moderately full. As 
prearranged, we got on the driver's platform, 
the darkest part of the vehicle, and the least 
sought after. 

For the first quarter of an hour of our ride, 
tram-lines and street ran parallel to, but on the 
other side of, the railway, which passed along 
the front of the camp. The eastern gate of 
Ruhleben camp was at one point not more than 
two hundred yards from a stopping-place, where 
officers and men of the camp-guard usually 
boarded the trams when going to town. Hardly 
half that distance away a sentry patrolled. 

The possibility of an untoward meeting at 
this point kept us on edge. If somebody from 
Ruhleben had accidentally entered our car, we 
intended to take no notice of it, unless he came 
to the front platform. What we should have 



276 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

done in that case, I do not know. Our resource- 
fulness was, fortunately, not put to the test. 

The front platform became fairly crowded. I 
succeeded in manoeuvering Tynsdale into a cor- 
ner, and planted myself in front of him, thus cut- 
ting him off from any likelihood of being spoken 
to by any of the passengers. Kent could take 
care of himself, better perhaps than I, for he 
was readier with his tongue. Half-way to Ber- 
lin, in front of West End Station, Charlotten- 
burg, where eighteen months ago my railway 
journey had started, the track was blocked by a 
car which had broken down. It took half an 
hour to shunt it upon a siding and clear the 
line. We were not pressed for time, and re- 
mained in our places, almost the only passen- 
gers who did so. 

Our immediate destination was the Wilhelms 
Platz in Berlin. From there we had to get to 
the Lehrter Station. Without local knowledge 
ourselves, we had gathered an idea of how to do 
it. Kent was to be guide and acting manager, 
but he kept consulting me, who was well content 
to follow. 

Broadway at the most crowded hour of the 
day is hardly so packed as were, that night, the 
far wider streets of the German capital. It 
seemed as if the whole population of Berlin were 



THE DAY 277 

wandering more or less aimlessly about. Two 
solid streams of people moved in opposite direc- 
tions on the pavements, and spilled over the curb 
into the roadway. In a way, this was favorable 
to us. Except by accident, it would have been 
impossible to find us. On the other hand, it 
made it difficult for a party of three to proceed 
by tram or omnibus. At every stopping-place 
of these public conveyances a free fight seemed 
to be going on for the places inside them ; not the 
rush we are accustomed to complain about in 
London, but a scramble in which brute force 
triumphed unchecked by any trivial regard for 
decent manners and the rights of others. 

After we had alighted and threaded our way 
across the Wilhelms Platz, Kent found a station 
of the Underground. 

''Take a first-class ticket for yourself. I '11 
buy two," were his instructions, whispered in 
German. 

I bought a third-class one. I did not want to. 
I was merely too funky to ask for first-class. It 
meant the pronunciation of an extra word. I 
could have spoken it as correctly as any German, 
but suppose there was no first-class on the Un- 
derground ! They 'd get suspicious ! It was 
very silly of me. Mistake No. 1. 

Naturally, the third-class was crowded. It is 



278 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

not the custom in Germany to be polite to the 
gentler sex. I knew it as well as anybody. But 
when an elderly woman, looking very tired, was 
clinging to a strap just in front of me, I was on 
my feet before I knew what I was doing. She 
declined the proffered seat in confusion. To re- 
pair my ''break," I hastily sat down again, my 
ears burning. Mistake No. 2. Kent looked 
daggers at me from the opposite seat, and as 
soon as he had a chance I got my wigging. 

At the Leipziger Platz the throng was thicker, 
if anything. There was not the faintest chance 
of getting into a train. 

''There are some droshkies down there," said 
Kent, pulling my arm to attract my attention. 

"Get one!" I answered curtly. 

The marvelous thing was that the driver ac- 
cepted us as fares. The luggage we were carry- 
ing, and our destination, Lehrter Bahnhof, did 
the trick, I believe. 

The drive through the Sieges Allee, past the 
greater atrocity of the ' ' Iron Hindenburg, ' ' and 
farther through deserted residential streets, 
was splendid. We lit cigarettes, and I regained 
my coolness. I wanted it. Grimly I reflected 
that two mistakes were quite enough for one 
day. 

We found the booking-hall of the Lehrter Sta- 



THE DAY 279 

tion crowded at eleven o 'clock. Kent and I de- 
posited our luggage and took our places in the 
long queue in front of the booking-office. 

''What time the eleven-forty-seven for 
Hanover to-night?" I asked a porter who was 
passing me. 

"Twelve-forty-seven, but to-night only." 

We had almost two hours to get through, 
somehow and somewhere. Not at the station, 
that was certain. 

"Follow Tynsdale and me. Keep as far in 
the rear as possible, and don't lose us," I told 
Kent. 

The Lehrter Station is situated in the north- 
western part of Berlin. There seemed no de- 
cent cafes near at hand in which we could spend 
the time and get a drink. As we were very 
thirsty, however, we found a low-class place not 
very far off in which we ordered a glass of beer 
each. When the waitress brought the drink she 
told us ungraciously that the cafe was going to 
be closed in a few minutes. Hastily we emptied 
our glasses, glad to get out of the place with as 
little delay as possible. Three German privates 
were eyeing us from a table close to ours much 
too attentively for our liking. 

Outside, the previous formation was resumed. 
Sauntering very slowly along, I led back past 



280 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

the station again, along the river Spree, then 
through the empty streets of a residential 
neighborhood, and finally, by accident, into the 
Friedrich Strasse with its dense throng of peo- 
ple. On the way I kept up a semblance of con- 
versation with Tynsdale. I would not go into a 
cafe again, so near closing time, thinking we 
were safest among the crowd, which was moving 
quite as leisurely as we were. Tynsdale was 
content to follow me, and Kent had no chance 
of pressing his objections. 

More slowly, if possible, we sauntered back to 
the station, where we arrived with fifty minutes 
to spare. Having got our luggage, we spent 
the time in the waiting-room and restaurant, 
over beer, coffee, and lemonade. German cig- 
arettes, bought at the counter, enabled us to 
enjoy a soothing smoke. 

''Shall we go out on the platform now?" 
asked Kent twenty minutes before train time. 

''No; wait," I answered. Later I explained 
that, since our absence was presumably known 
in camp by that time, and since there was a 
chance that passports might be inspected at a 
terminus, I thought it would be better if we 
rushed to the platform as late-comers. 

If I recollect rightly, Kent was to chaperon 
Tynsdale as far as Hanover. At the last mo- 



THE DAY 281 

ment I requested that he should come into my 
compartment. I should have been worried 
about my friends if I had traveled alone in 
comparative security, and was sure of feeling 
happier with Tynsdale by my side. Eightly or 
wrongly, I imagined I could take care of him 
just as well as Kent. 

The train was a stopping one, and was 
crowded to the last seat when we tried to board 
it. 

*'Can we get into a first-class compartment?" 
I asked a busy official. ''There is no room in 
the second." 

"Third and second only on this train," he 
answered, and then shoved Tynsdale and me 
into an already crowded carriage, from which 
he ejected a soldier who had a third-class ticket. 

"Sit down," I said peremptorily to Tynsdale, 
who obeyed. I stood in the gangway, leaning 
against the window. Kent disappeared into an- 
other compartment. 

Then we were off, past Ruhleben camp to 
Spandau as the first stop. It appeared a fore- 
gone conclusion that our absence was known in 
camp by now. We feared that the train might 
be searched in Spandau. I took some comfort 
from its crowded state. "When another crush of 
people packed themselves into the little standing 



282 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

room left, I blessed the scarcity of trains whicli 
caused the crowding. Information has since 
reached me that the camp authorities did not 
discover our escape until roll-call the next morn- 
ing. 

Within the next hour the compartment emp- 
tied, until we were left alone, but for a German 
N. C. 0., who, fat as a pig, was breathing ster- 
torously in his sleep. Tynsdale was slumber- 
ing behind his overcoat. I followed his example 
for short spells, the uneasy feeling that I had 
something or somebody to take care of following 
me into confused dreams. 

At the Hanover main station our luggage 
went into the cloak-room and we ourselves into 
the waiting-room and restaurant to have a cup 
of coffee. 

I knew Hanover fairly well, and was to con- 
duct my friends to the Eilenriede, a huge 
public park encircling a quarter of the town. 
The greater part of it is really a densely tim- 
bered forest, where we could spend the morning, 
or part of it, in safety. Tynsdale and I in 
front, Kent in the rear, we wended our way 
thither, as much as possible through back 
streets. 

It was a typical September morning, promis- 



THE DAY 283 

ing a hot day. The life of the town was be- 
ginning to stir : people were going to work, milk- 
men were making their rounds, a belated farm- 
er's cart rattled over the cobbles now and again; 
from the main thoroughfares came the buzzing 
of trolleys and the clanging of bells. 

In the park Kent closed up, and we walked 
abreast for a time, talking freely in German. 
We felt tired, and finally sat down in a secluded 
spot, surrounded by thick timber and under- 
growth. At long intervals early-morning ram- 
blers passed us, solitary old gentlemen, and sev- 
eral couples who most decidedly felt no craving 
for further company, and consequently took 
more notice of us than the old gentlemen. Near 
by, two women were gathering wood and load- 
ing it into dilapidated '^ prams." They were 
usually out of sight, but we heard them all the 
time, breaking the dry sticks into convenient 
lengths. 

Gradually the sun sucked up the mists, but the 
haze of an autumn day remained. Slanting 
shafts of light struck through the foliage, which 
sent off scintillating reflections, where it moved 
in a very slight breeze, while its shadows seemed 
to dance merrily on the ground. A full chorus 
of birds warbled and twittered in praise of the 
warmth of the waning summer. The hum of in- 



284 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

sects was in the air. A butterfly winged past 
at intervals, and behind our seat a colony of ants 
was busily engaged. 

The leaves had begun to fall. They covered 
the ground between the trees, but the branches 
themselves only showed the dark-green foliage 
of summer. 

Our surroundings moved me intensely. I had 
not seen in this way a green thing in seventeen 
months of prison life. I had not been among 
green trees for over three years. The seat, 
hard as it was, was comfortable to our tired 
bodies. "We felt lazy, and when we had dis- 
cussed the night's events, and outlined the next 
move, the talk languished. We were hungry, 
too. Two biscuits apiece and a rather generous 
allowance of chocolate tasted good. 

Kent told us that he had immediately found a 
seat in the train, the night before. His com- 
partment had emptied sooner than ours, and he 
had chatted through most of the journey with 
his only traveling companion, a lieutenant. I 
do not know how many lies he told him. 

At ten o'clock we walked back to the town. 
The heat was oppressive by now. A circuitous 
route, to waste time, brought us into the main 
street, the Georg Strasse. In an arcade I en- 
tered a shop for sporting-equipment, leaving 



THE DAY 285 

Tynsdale to wait outside with Kent, and ob- 
tained two military water-bottles and an ex- 
tremely shoddy knapsack at an exorbitant price. 
Kent bought cigars. A strong clasp-knife was 
added to my equipment. At a tram-crossing I 
inquired from a policeman about the cars to 
Hainholz. I intended to repeat the trick Wal- 
lace and I had made use of ten months before, 
and avoid leaving from the main station. It 
was too early to obtain a meal in a restaurant 
then — about eleven o 'clock — so we went into the 
famous Kafe Kroepke, where we sat at different 
tables in the order of our entrance. 

On the way back from the station, carrying 
our luggage and walking in the usual order, I 
caught sight of a very detective-like individ- 
ual crossing the road toward us. He fell in 
behind Tynsdale and me, between us and Kent. 
As well as I could I watched him, but we did not 
seem to interest him. While we stood waiting 
for the tram, Kent closed up, and I nearly 
choked with rage. I thought his instructions, 
"Do as we do, but keep apart," covered every- 
thing. Now he was asking me questions. But, 
after all, it was only leveling up the score of 
the previous night against me. 

At Hainholz I went to the ticket-window and 
asked for two second-class tickets to Bremen. 



286 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

Kent has asked for one ten minutes before, and 
had been told to wait. 

**Are you two traveling together?" asked the 
booking clerk. 

''No, no. I 'm traveling with my friend," 
and I waved an uncertain hand toward Tyns- 
dale, who looked on with an impassive face from 
a seat behind us. 

*'Do I understand you to want a pass for two, 
and you," turning to Kent, who was standing 
beside me, ''for one?" 

Kent signified his assent. 

"I want two tickets to Bremen. Two!" 
said I. 

"You see," explained the man, "I have no 
tickets to Bremen in stock. I 've got to write 
out passes for you. It '11 save work, if two are 
traveling together. I can make out a joint pass 
for two then." Thank heaven it was nothing 
else! 

We rushed to the platform only just in time 
— and waited for half an hour for the over- 
due train, another one of the parliamentary 
variety. 

Tynsdale and I got the last two seats in a 
compartment occupied by a well-dressed and 
well-groomed man, four flappers with school- 
maps, and a very pretty woman. 



THE DAY 287 

I felt much relieved when the train started. 
Another part of our venture had come to an 
end ! We had now left the direct route toward 
Holland, the route by which the authorities 
would expect us to travel. Cloppenburg, which 
was the ultimate objective of our railway jour- 
ney, lay in a straight line not so many miles to 
the west of us. Yet we were going to spend 
another seven and a half hours in getting there, 
and had to change the direction of our flight 
twice. 

It was, therefore, with considerable compos- 
ure that I sat listening to the chatter of the 
flappers and the occasional snores of the man, 
and watching the landscape through the window. 

It stretched flat to the horizon, dancing in the 
heat haze. Toward four o'clock, white clouds 
made their appearance in the azure sky, fol- 
lowed presently by gray ones. When we drew 
into Bremen Station, where we had to wait 
forty minutes for another train, due to start at 
half -past five, a heavy shower was drumming on 
the glass roof. 

Our traveling companions remained with us 
all the way. About half an hour before we 
reached our destination, the pretty lady next to 
me began to make ready for her arrival. Her 
hair, an abundance of it, required a lot of pat- 



288 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

ting and pulling about, which did not alter its 
appearance in any way to the male eye. She sat 
forward in her seat, and with her back straight 
and her arms raised, she assumed the captivat- 
ing pose of a woman putting the last deft 
touches to her toilet. Although anxious not to 
appear rude, I tried to lose none of her move- 
ments, which were the more charming to me as 
I had not seen a woman of her class close to me 
for over three years. Her rounded, well-mod- 
eled arms and shoulders showed dimly through 
the thin blouse. Fortunately, she was half 
turning her back toward me and my companion, 
and we could gaze our fill. 

*' Was n't she pretty!" were Tynsdale's first 
words in the station restaurant after four hours 
of silence. 

''Wasn't she!" 

We were having a cup of coffee, sociably sit- 
ting together at the same table. I went out to 
buy the three tickets and have a wash. To my 
astonishment, there was real soap for use, not 
merely to look at as a curiosity, in the station 
lavatory. I made a remark about this extraor- 
dinary fact to the attendant, who told me quite 
frankly that he made it a point to have real soap, 
and that it was profitable for him to buy it at 



THE DAY 289 

eighteen marks per pound in bulk. This im- 
plied illicit trading, and the outspokenness of 
his statement was illustrative of the general 
evasion of the strict trading laws and price lim- 
its. 

The journey to Oldenburg, our next stopping- 
place, took half an hour only, but was the most 
trying part of our escape. We were on the 
main line to an important naval and airship cen- 
ter, Wilhelmshaven, and although we did not 
approach it within fifty miles, the fact never left 
my mind. Furthermore, the compartment 
Tynsdale and I were in was so crowded that we 
had at first to stand. As soon as a seat became 
vacant, Tynsdale slipped into it. It was next 
the window on the other side of the car, happily 
away from an inquisitive and extremely talka- 
tive individual, who, having been rebuffed by 
an officer and earned the hostile glare of a man 
in naval uniform, lapsed for a short time only 
into comparative silence. Before he opened his 
sluice-gates again, I had sat down beside Tyns- 
dale, covertly watching the dangerous lunatic, as 
I called him, and sending up heartfelt prayers 
that my friend would stick to reading the book 
which he held in his hand as usual. He would 
not do so, however, but kept looking out of the 
window, giving an opportunity every time, I 



290 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

felt, for our conversational friend to open fire. 

The scheduled thirty-five minutes would not 
come to an end. Even when my watch told me 
that they were past, the train still kept stopping 
at small stations and in the open country, and 
jogging on again after a short halt. My anxiety 
was great, but at last I had my reward when we 
arrived at Oldenburg. 

What is it that makes one place, feel ''safe'* 
and another menacing? In most cases it is dif- 
ficult to explain. The comfortable assurance of 
security I had here, I put down to the absence 
of crowds in the station, and to the fact that a 
booking-office between the platforms permitted 
the purchase of new tickets without the neces- 
sity of passing through the gates with their hos- 
tile guard of soldiers. Eighteen months earlier 
the shutters in front of the windows of a sim- 
ilar intermediate office at Dortmund Station, 
had caused me to reflect that the authorities 
wanted to force all passengers to come under 
the scrutiny of the guard and the ever-present 
detectives. Now the face of the clerk on the 
other side of the glass appeared a good omen. 
We were not in Prussia, by the way, but in the 
Duchy of Oldenburg. 

Our train was due to leave in twenty minutes 
from the time of our belated arrival. After a 



THE DAY 291 

short wait on the platform it was shunted in. 
We all three bundled into the same compart- 
ment, but took seats in different corners. We 
did not carry through very carefully this show 
of not belonging together, as nobody joined us. 
Kent bought two small baskets of fruit from a 
vendor who passed along the train, and we were 
sufficiently hungry to start munching their con- 
tents at once. 

During the first part of this last stretch of an 
hour and a half we remained alone. Dusk was 
rapidly changing into total darkness. Soon it 
became impossible to distinguish the names of 
the feebly lighted stations. I checked them 
carefully from the open time-table beside me, 
lest we should alight too soon or too late. 

At 8 :30 we arrived at Cloppenburg. The first 
and probably the most dangerous part of our 
venture lay behind us. 



^ CHAPTEE XXII 

ORDER OF MARCH 

MY two companions had entrusted them- 
selves to my leadership for the tramp to 
the frontier. My first business was to pilot 
them out of town from the right side, if possi- 
ble, and, what was more difficult, by the most 
favorable road. I thought it, under the circum- 
stances, about as hard a task as could be set me, 
at the very beginning. If so slight an under- 
taking as ours may be spoken of in military 
terms, I should compare it to a rearguard action 
■and the successful withdrawal from touch with 
the enemy's advance scouts. 

It was a very dark night. Only occasional 
stars glimmered through the canopy of clouds. 
I knew nothing of the town, except what little 
information could be gleaned from a motor-map, 
scale 1 to 300,000. The time-table had taught 
us that we were to arrive at one station, and that 
a train was to start from another about half an 
hour later. A number of people were likely to 
change from the one to the other. To follow 

292 



ORDER OF MARCH 293 

them, as if we were of the same mind, would give 
us a start off and carry us beyond the eyes of 
the railway officials. After that I should have 
to do the best I could, without the help of either 
a compass, which I could not consult, or the 
stars, which were not in evidence. 

As long as we were likely to meet people the 
order of march was to be : I in the van, Tynsdale 
and Kent in the rear, as far behind as possible 
without losing touch. 

Most of the people who had left the station 
with us kept on the same road, thus proving our 
calculation correct. We walked in their rear, 
I carrying the portmanteau, which rapidly grew 
heavy. Big trees lined the streets throughout ; 
their shadows made it impossible to see more 
than a few steps ahead. I followed behind the 
other travelers more by sound than by sight. 
My companions had to keep within arm's length 
of me. There seemed to be a maze of streets, 
and, trusting to luck, I turned into one of them. 
We found ourselves alone. At another corner, 
instinct bade me take a sharp turn to the right. 
Then the streets lost their character as such. 
Houses seemed to be irregularly dotted about on 
bare ground underneath towering trees. Again 
they drew together into a street, or a semblance 
of one. Here my friends closed up, and I gave 



294 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

the leaden-weighted portmanteau to Kent. A 
furtive peep at the compass heartened me a lit- 
tle. It seemed as if open country appeared in 
front, but it was difficult to tell. Near a lamp, 
three girls passed us, arm in arm. Inquisitively 
they turned their heads. 

The road ascended and curved, fields were on 
each side, the silhouette of a house in front; to 
the left, perhaps fifty yards away, the ragged 
outlines of a wood. 

''We 're in the open," I announced, ''and on a 
favorable road, I think. Let 's go into that 
wood and pack our knapsacks. What time is 
it?" 

"Ten minutes past nine," answered Kent, 
who carried the luminous wrist-watch. 

It was only a thin belt of trees in whose shel- 
ter we arranged our loads, and discarded the 
white collars and shirts we were wearing. 
From the southward came the barking of a dog 
and the noise of railway traffic. The dog was 
not far away. Whether it was because of his 
bark, or because of a light we saw, we sensed a 
house in the same direction, near enough to call 
for careful handling of our electric torches. It 
was not necessary to warn my friends. They 
were squatting cautiously close to the ground, 
never rising above a sitting posture, and screen- 



ORDER OF MARCH 295 

ing the light with their bodies. It was I who re- 
ceived a mild rebuke from the very cautious 
Kent. I do not think my action deserved it, but 
I was so elated that its chastening effect was, 
perhaps, good. Not forgetting the fact that we 
had yet to pass two strongly guarded lines — the 
river Ems and the Dutch frontier — I felt, never- 
theless, that our task was more than half accom- 
plished. 

When we had finished, I bade my friends lie 
down, one on each side of me, so that I might use 
the flashlight for a thorough scrutiny of the 
map. I recognized the road on our right with- 
out difficulty. It was a second-class one, and di- 
vided the angle between the two highroads. As 
to direction it was entirely favorable; as to 
safety it was preferable to a first-class highway. 
A brook was marked on the map as flowing 
across it not very far away, and this was of al- 
most greater importance than anything else, for 
we had not been able to fill our water-bottles. 
"We were thirsty, but not uncomfortably so as 
yet. My experiences had taught me the para- 
mount necessity of always having sufficient 
water. How to get it began to occupy a great 
part of my thoughts from now on. 

^'It 's quite obvious," I remarked. ''We '11 
follow this road through Vahren village. We '11 



296 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

find water at about twelve o'clock. At about 
one- thirty we '11 turn at right angles into this 
road, which will lead us to water again, and then 
into the northern highroad." I went in detail 
over the prospective night's march. "And 
now, ' ' I finished, putting map and torch into my 
pocket and getting up, "good luck to us ! Come 
on. I '11 be in front till further orders." 

Once on the road, starting at a good pace, we 
turned our faces toward the west, toward Hol- 
land, and toward freedom. 

When I recall the events of my first two es- 
capes, I am astonished at the clearness with 
which every minute 's happenings are imprinted 
on my mind. I need only close my eyes to 
see the sights, hear the sounds, and, in a meas- 
ure, be under the influence of the same emotions 
which I then experienced. 

It is somewhat different with my recollections 
of this last escape. For the greater part they 
are as bright as they can be. But there are, 
blurred patches in the pictures of my memory. 
A number of them seem wholly obliterated. 

Soon after everything was over we wrote 
down the course of events. These notes and 
our maps are helping me now in my efforts to 
recall the next five days. But even at the time 



OEDER OF MARCH 297 

of fixing our recollections with pencil and paper, 
while they were not yet a week old, our joint 
efforts proved inadequate in filling a blank of 
about six hours in the second night of our walk. 

It was a glorious sensation to feel a road 
under our feet, and to have the open country 
about us. It was about the time of the new 
moon. The rain had ceased hours before, but 
the clouds were still obscuring the stars, and the 
night was exceedingly dark. 

In due course the first village was indicated by 
a few scattered houses — the outposts, as it were. 
We slowed up. 

A dense mass of black shadow lay in front of 
us. Not a light was to be seen anywhere. 
Slowly we advanced, until the faint outlines of a 
roof here and a gable there detached themselves 
from the overshadowing groups of enormous 
trees, which embowered the village completely 
in dimly seen masses of foliage. With stealthy 
steps, almost groping, we entered the blackness, 
which seemed to close behind us. Nothing 
broke the silence except the rattle of a chain 
once or twice, and the muffled lowing of a 
cow. By contrast it seemed light when we 
emerged into the open again. 

*'We ought to get to water in half an hour 
now. Look out for it. It '11 be a small stream. 



298 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

We might miss it," I counseled. Kent was 
close behind me with Tynsdale. 

Half an hour — three-quarters of an hour 
— but no water. Instead we entered another 
village, not marked on the map. Among the 
houses a road branched off to the north. I was 
awfully thirsty. My tongue lay heavy in my 
mouth. 

''Let 's try to cut off that corner," said I. 
"The other branch of the brook may exist in 
reality. I think this road will curve round to 
the northwest or west, and get us there quicker. 
It 's not marked on the map." 

My friends were always willing to follow my 
suggestion, and we tried it. 

The road curved west, then west-by-south. 

' ' Stop a moment ! We had better go back to 
the old route. I don 't like this very much now. ' ^ 

Again Tynsdale and Kent followed obedi- 
ently. 

This was the first instance of many in which I 
did not allow myself to be guided by my instinct, 
as I should have done if I had been alone. I felt 
so strongly my responsibility toward my friends 
that I disliked taking any move I could not fully 
explain by cold reasoning. Instinct is generally 
unreasonable. Besides, it does sometimes lead 



OKDER OF MARCH 299 

one astray. In our case it might compel us 
to walk across-country, and the cross-country 
stretches in this part of Germany looked forbid- 
ding on the map, being mostly marked as 
heather, moors, and swamps. 

Having regained the former road, I discov- 
ered after a while that it was turning too much 
to the south. I was still musing about this when 
we entered a smooth, broad, first-class highway. 

''Let 's rest for a spell," I suggested. 

We sat down, with our feet in the ditch, close 
to the trunk of one of the enormous trees lining 
the roadside. 

''Do you know where we are?" asked Kent, 
after I had consulted the map and sat blinking 
again to accustom my eyes to the night. 

"Of course I do," I snorted irritably. 
"We 're on that beastly southern highway I 
wanted to avoid. I wish I hadn't been such a 
fool as to abandon the other road. I don't 
know how we got here. The map shows no 
connecting road down to here at all. The only 
damage done, as far as I can see, is that we have 
increased our distance from water. We can hit 
the by-road leading north, if we follow the 
chaussee. Oh, I 'm thirsty! I '11 try a cigar- 
ette." We all lit up. 



300 MY ESCAPE FEOM GERMANY 

Three abreast we started again. 

''There 's a sign-post," said Kent, whose eyes 
were exceptionally good. 

''To Molbergen," it read, pointing along a 
'Straight by-road at right angles to our direc- 
tion. 

"This is the one we are looking for," I an- 
nounced. "How do you feel, Tynsdale?" 

"I can hardly keep my eyes open," he made 
answer. 

"Well, we '11 soon get water," I said, to con- 
sole him. 

"I '11 walk ahead as a pace-maker," sug- 
gested Kent. 

"Good!" It appeared a splendid idea. 
"I '11 take the rear. Tynsdale had better follow 
you close, to get the benefit of your pace-mak- 
ing. ' ' 

Kent led with a swinging pace along the 
sandy, rutted road for an hour and a half. The 
country stretched flat on each hand, often 
broken by patches of forest. A telephone line 
on our left irritated me with the monotony of 
its ever-recurring, never-ending succession of 
poles. I had the old sensation of walking up- 
hill. We found no water. Then we came to 
the northern highway, into which we swung by 
a turn to the left. 



OKDER OF MARCH 301 

By this time my tongue was sticky. I had 
the feeling of a crust having formed at the cor- 
ners of my mouth. Neither Tynsdale nor Kent 
felt thirst so acutely. A little way down the 
chaussee I stopped. 

''There is a house over there. I '11 see 
whether or not there 's a well. They must have 
a water-supply," I remarked. 

Tynsdale and Kent waited in the road at 
first, but soon followed me. The solitary build- 
ing stood about fifty paces from it, and a well 
with windlass and protecting roof faced its 
western side. No pail was attached to the wire 
rope, but an old cast-iron pot lay on the ground 
beside the stone coping. This we tied to the 
end of the rope with pieces of string, and, turn- 
ing the handle of the windlass cautiously, let it 
down. When it came up, filled with very cold, 
wonderful water, was there ever anything so de- 
licious? We drank in turns, not once, but many 
times; then filled our water-bottles, and drank 
most of the remaining liquid. 

We passed through another village in the 
course of the remaining hours. Behind it we 
came to a large brook, not marked on the map, 
which rushed gurgling underneath the stone 
bridge. I insisted upon another drink and a re- 
plenishment of our water-bottles. 



302 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

*'I can't keep awake any longer," complained 
Tynsdale a little later. 

'*I suppose we had better take a rest, then. 
Don't you think so, Kent? We '11 just turn off 
the road and lie down underneath that hedge 
there. Only for half an hour, mind. We must 
find decent cover before dawn." This was at 
half-past three. 

We spread the oilskins as a ground-cloth and 
rolled ourselves into our overcoats. I wanted to 
keep awake, but fell asleep as promptly as the 
other two, not to awaken until an hour after- 
ward. 

"Get up, quick! No time to lose. Get up!" 
I aroused my friends. Not more than about 
half an hour was left us in which to find good 
cover. Already the air struck my cheek with 
the damp chill of dawn. It ''smelled" morning. 

We packed in haste, and hurried along the 
road. Once, and again, we turned into a by- 
road, which seemed to be leading toward a wood. 
But scattered trees near -the horizon produce 
in the dark the impression of a forest, since only 
their outlines can be seen against the sky. We 
found each time that we had been lured into a 
fruitless quest. 

The eastern horizon was graying when we 
came to a small spinney at a cross-roads. 



ORDER OF MARCH 303 

*'This will have to do," I said, a little doubt- 
fully. 

Pressing toward the heart of the thicket, and 
using my torch to avoid stabbing branches, I 
discovered a noose in a bush for trapping birds. 
I showed it to my friends. ' ' This does n 't look 
like security, does if?" 

In the densest part of the spinney we halted. 

''Wait a few minutes, will you? I '11 see 
whether or not I can find something better near 
at hand." With that I left them. I explored 
our immediate surroundings without success, lo- 
cated a house in the vicinity, and finally had 
.some difficulty in finding my companions. 
When I thought I was near them I whistled 
softly, to be answered by Kent, not three feet 
away. My friends had prepared a camp, and I 
lay down by them on the oilskins. The two 
overcoats we spread over us, and the oilsilks 
on top. The knapsacks served as pillows, and 
almost in a moment we were asleep. 



CHAPTER XXIII 

THE ROAD THEOUGH THE NIGHT 

WE woke up in full daylight, which re- 
vealed the scantiness of our cover. By 
merely raising our heads we could see people 
and vehicles pass along the roads, and the 
sound of voices and the creaking of wheels were 
at intervals very distinct all day. That it is 
very much more difficult to see into a thicket 
than from it, was a consolation with which we 
reassured ourselves repeatedly. I do not think 
the others felt any more nervous than did I, 
who thought we were safe as long as we kept 
our recumbent position. We hardly moved dur- 
ing the sixteen hours, I believe. 

We ate our rations in two instalments and 
with interruptions slept a good deal. We never 
got as much sleep again in one day while in 
Germany. I doubt that we got as much until 
all was over. 

Occasional gleams of sunshine during the 
morning became ever rarer as the afternoon 
wore on. Gray clouds threatened rain more 

304 



THE EOAD THROUGH THE NIGHT 305 

determinedly as the day grew old, but a strong 
wind which was soughing in the branches over- 
head kept it off until evening, when it started 
with a small preparatory shower or two. 

When the light began to fail, we packed up 
and sat about in our raincoats, talking in under- 
tones and listening to the pat-pat-pat of occa- 
sional drops among the leaves. The roads had 
become deserted as darkness fell. 

At 9:30 we started our second night's 
progress. 

Two considerations had determined my theo- 
retical choice of route for the night. One was 
the desirability of keeping well to the north of 
an artillery practice ground on the hither side 
of the river Ems, the other the question of 
water. 

In order to carry my intentions into effect, we 
intended to leave the first-class highway for a 
communication road which was to branch off in 
a village about an hour's walk ahead. It was to 
lead in a tolerably straight line across a desolate 
stretch of country of no small dimensions. 

Soon after our start, the drizzle of rain turned 
into a regular downpour which drummed nois- 
ily on oilskins and hats. A sign-post with the 
distance from Cloppenburg gave us our exact 
position, and enabled us to calculate the extent 



306 MY ESCAPE FEOM GEEMANY 

of ground covered on the previous night. We 
made it 28 kilometers (171/2 miles). 

Again we looked in vain for the brook which 
we had expected to find during the first hour. 
The water we carried was getting low, and I was 
anxious to have the bottles full again, and to get 
a good drink. In the first village we came to, 
the gurgling of a rain-spout was too tempting, 
and in spite of the protests of my friends I 
drank copiously and filled my bottle, whereupon 
they followed my example. It was just as well 
that they did so, for more than twenty-four 
hours were to elapse before we had another, and 
less enjoyable, opportunity of slaking our thirst 
with more than a mouthful at a time from our 
bottles, which was all we permitted ourselves be- 
tween sources. 

To our very circumscribed vision, the village, 
and all those we had passed through so far, and 
would have to traverse yet, were of the same 
type. At night their streets, ill defined among 
the loosely scattered farm buildings, were 
wrapped in impenetrable blackness, and both 
safe and difficult for men in our position to fol- 
low. Two steps to one side, and one's compan- 
ions were lost to sight. To distinguish between 
the road and a by-lane leading nowhere was fre- 
quently impossible, without the help of the 



THE EOAD THROUGH THE NIGHT 307 

swiftly stabbing, instantly extinguished cone of 
light from our torches. 

In this and the next village we came to I would 
not risk taking any of the likely-looking by- 
roads, without some extra assurance, such as a 
sign-post would have given me, of finding the 
right turning. Sign-posts were conspicuous by 
their absence. During the whole night we found 
only two, neither of them any good for the pur- 
pose in hand, and they were the last we saw for 
the rest of the journey. 

Consequently we continued on the first-class 
highway, which was easy to follow, until it 
joined the southern road again in the village of 
Werfte. This was about half-past one in the 
morning. 

The high-road from now on continued due 
west through flat, monotonous, and swampy 
country. As fast as we could we pushed along, 
Kent making pace with his usual swinging gait, 
hour after hour. For our objective we had two 
small lakes, shown on the map as touching the 
road on its northern side. They were to supply 
us with water before we went into hiding. 
Close behind them, a single third-class road, im- 
possible to mistake, was to start us north on the 
third evening on our quest for our proper lati- 
tude, and in avoidance of the northern end of 



308 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

the artillery ground, by this time not more than 
eight or nine miles in front of ns. 

The second sign-post we saw that night not 
long before dawn enabled ns to fix our position 
with accuracy, but a little later we came to the 
conclusion that our maps had played us false 
again. The lakes were nowhere in sight, though 
we ought to have passed or reached them. 
Since we had left Werf te the track of the steam- 
tram had accompanied the road on our right, 
and a screen of bushes and woods had interfered 
with our view to the north. Now we burst 
through them, bent on finding a hiding-place 
away from the road. 

''There 's the lake!" shouted Kent, pointing 
over the black expanse to where, like a shield of 
dull silver, the surface of the water glimmered 
three quarters of a mile to the north-northeast. 
It was too late to approach it then. To the 
north of us, a small thicket, looking as usual 
many times its actual size, invited us to rest. 
We advanced toward it over springy, heather- 
covered ground and across several wire fences. 

On the banks of a deep ditch, scantily shel- 
tered by bushes, young trees, some furze and 
heather, we made camp. It was a fairly safe 
place, for the reason that, as we saw later, there 
was no house within a third of a mile — at the 



THE EOAD THROUGH THE NIGHT 309 

moment we thought there was no dwelling with- 
in several miles — nor any tilled land. 

Our resting-place on the bank of the ditch had 
been selected from the standpoint of conceal- 
ment only. It was most uncomfortable to lie on. 
Before the sun had cleared the horizon, we were 
awake again. 

The rain had ceased after midnight, and now a 
boisterous wind was dispersing the last clouds 
which hurried across the sky from the northeast, 
tinted rosily on their under side. The air was 
extraordinarily clear. Its refreshing coolness 
quickly drove the last cloying remnants of sleep 
from our brains. The sun rose. Far away, to 
the east, the church spire of Werfte stood 
sharply defined above the smudge of green 
which indicated the village. 

I crept away from my friends during the 
morning to glean some information, if possible, 
by a look from the other side of the thicket, to- 
ward the west. The pale blue of the sky above, 
speckled by hurrying clouds, the flat rim of the 
sky-line, broken by two distant villages, the line 
of the road by which we had come, continuing 
toward the large village of Soegel, and a soli- 
tary farm, seven hundred yards away, made up 
the landscape. While I lay watching behind a 



310 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

furze bush a country cart crept across my circle 
of vision. Between me and the invisible road a 
number of cattle sounded unmelodius bells with 
every hasty movement of their heads. 

''We needn't look for the road to-night. 
It 's there, to the west," I announced, rejoining 
my friends. ' ' We can break camp early and get 
water as soon as dusk is setting in. After that 
we '11 go northwesterly across country, turn 
north on the road," etc. I outlined the next 
night 's march. Our plans were very elaborate, 
but came to naught. 

''All right," my companions nodded assent. 
"Now have something to eat." They were 
munching away at their rations. For a time 
we chatted in excellent spirits. 

"There is a much better place to lie in just 
behind us. It looks safe enough," suggested 
Tynsdale, worming his way back to us through 
the bushes after a short absence. 

"Yes; let 's shift! I saw it, too," seconded 
Kent. 

So we shifted, and soon lay comfortably en- 
sconced in the lee of some bushes. Here we 
were bothered by mosquitoes, for the air was 
still, but we felt warm, and managed to snatch 
some sleep during the remainder of the day. 

At 8:30 P.M. we were plodding through the 



THE ROAD THROUGH THE NIGHT 311 

heather toward the lake, which glimmered at 
the bottom of a shallow depression. We were 
licking our lips in anticipation of the drink we 
were going to have. Two hundred yards from 
the shore the ground became marshy, then a 
quagmire. We strung out in line abreast in 
order to find a firm path to the water 's edge, but 
had to desist in the face of impossibilities. 

Rain had been threatening for the last four 
hours, but -was still holding off, when we got on 
to the road, and proceeded north. We had 
walked steadily for an hour or so. The night 
was pitch-dark. Black and flat swamp-land ex- 
tended all round to the indistinct horizon. Hero 
and there the lighter streaks of ditches, full of 
foul, stagnant water, were ruled across the black 
expanse. The wires of a telephone line on our 
right hummed in the wind. 

We were walking as best we could — I a little 
in front on the right, Tynsdale on the other side 
of the road, Kent almost treading on my heels. 
The ribbon of turf underneath my feet seemed 
fairly broad. 

A sudden splash behind me caused me to stop 
and whirl round. A white face at my feet 
heaved itself, as it seemed, out of the ground, 
and Kent scrambled back on to the road, squirt- 
ing water from every seam. 



312 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

''Did you know we were walking within half 
an inch of a ditch? How is it you didn't fall 
inT' he demanded savagely of me. 

''Are you hurt?" I counter-questioned anx- 
iously. 

' ' Not a bit ! The water was just deep enough 
to cover me entirely, except my knapsack. That 
seems dry," he answered, feeling himself all 
over. "I 've lost my hat, though." 

"Anything else?" 

"No, I don't think so. Never mind the old 
hat. I hardly ever wear it." 

"Come on, then! Keep moving, or you '11 
catch a chill. ' ' 

After about'one hour and a half, during which 
a number of paths had demonstrated the unre- 
liability of our maps in this locality, none of 
them being marked, a cart road on our left 
proved too much of a temptation for me. 

"Are you fellows game," I asked, "to follow 
me over uncharted ground? I feel certain I can 
do better by compass alone, and probably save 
us several miles." 

"Don't make speeches, old man; get along. 
We '11 follow." 

I was fortunate in being able to justify this 
move. Three quarters of an hour afterward 
we struck a highway a mile in front of the vil- 



THE ROAD THROUGH THE NIGHT 313 

lage of Spahn, our nearest objective. Pleased 
with myself, I announced a clear gain of about 
three miles. Here we took it easy for about 
twenty minutes, sitting in the road, with our 
feet in the ditch. Kent and Tynsdale had a 
draft from the brandy flask, and we all had 
something to eat. 

''This is the fifth shrine we Ve seen since 
Monday night. I always thought northern Ger- 
many was entirely Protestant," Kent remarked 
when our scouting for water at the entrance 
of a settlement had led us around the structure. 

''We 'd much prefer a well, anyway," was 
our unanimous opinion. 

We simply had to have water. After search- 
ing among the houses we finally found a rain- 
tub half full of it. It contained a fair number 
of insect larvae, to judge from the tiny, soft 
bodies passing over our tongues while we drank, 
but we continued our march with heavy water- 
bottles. 

The name of the village, in black letters on a 
white board, dispelled any possible doubt as to 
our position. A white post close to this sign 
elicited my angry comment : 

"I 'd like to know how many of these beastly 
poles with the direction boards missing we Ve 
seen so far ! Do the Boches think they can make 



314 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

it more difficult for an invading army or some- 
thing, by knocking their sign-posts to pieces'?" 
For the next hour and a half our way lay 
through dense forest. The straight, very wide 
clearing which served as a road was ankle-deep 
in sand. As it yielded and gave way under the 
backward pressure of our hurrying feet, it pro- 
duced the nightmarish sensation of striving 
hopelessly in a breathless flight against a re- 
tarding force. Thousands of fireflies dotted 
the roadside with points of greenish light, or 
drew curves of phosphorescence in the air. A 
heavy shower urged us to assume the sweltering 
protection of our raincoats. Several times I 
checked the direction of the road at its begin- 
ning, and even borrowed Tynsdale's compass 
for the purpose, as the needle of mine seemed to 
move sluggishly, but I noticed nothing wrong. 

The next village, which we entered soon after 
midnight, looked quite different from what we 
had expected. It was of considerable size. 
The streets were in darkness, although electric 
street lamps were installed. But the yellow 
squares of numerous lighted windows told of 
many inhabitants not yet in bed. Near the 
church we turned into a road on our right. 



THE EOAD THROUGH THE NIGHT 315 

Among the last houses I checked the road's di- 
rection. 

*'It isn't the road we want," was my con- 
clusion. '^ Leading too directly north. We 'd 
better go back and look for the right one. 
What d'you think?" 

''D' you think it safe?" 

''Well, we have n't much time to spare. But 
the streets are dark enough. We might risk 
it." 

Again we passed in front of the church. In 
what looked like the vicarage at one side, three 
large windows lit the road in front. A shadow 
passed over the blinds. A door banged. Hur- 
riedly we dived into the shadow farther on. 
The footfalls of a single man sounded behind us, 
ominously determined it seemed. It was too 
dark to see more than three or four yards, but 
we were sincerely glad when the sound was 
gradually left behind and we found ourselves 
in the open country on a sort of cart track. 

''This isn't the road, either. Too far west 
this time," was my conclusion. "The former 
road is the better of the two. We '11 strike back 
to it across-country." 

We did so in twenty minutes' work over 
fields. It soon began to tally better with the 



316 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

direction on the map. Two hours through fire- 
fly infested forest saw us enter another village, 
as dark and as safe as any we had yet passed 
through. At its farther end we stopped. 

*'We 've simply got to see whether we can't 
get more water," I said. ''I don't really know 
where we are. I expect it will be all right, but 
1 do not know how long it will take us to find a 
brook. These farms must have a water-supply 
somewhere. Just wait at the corner here. I '11 
go scouting. If anything happens to me, I '11 
make enough noise to let you know of it. Then 
you can scoot out of the village and wait for me 
a reasonable time somewhere along the road." 
And I left them protesting mildly. 

Across a manure-littered farmyard I splashed 
stealthily into a sort of kitchen-garden, as it 
turned out. Standing there I used my flash- 
light once for a look round. From behind me, 
right over my head and in easy reach, stretched 
the large branch of a tree, bending under a 
heavy load of apples. The first I touched re- 
mained in my hand at once, which showed them 
to be ripe. I crammed my pockets and filled my 
hat. I got almost thirty. Then I joined my 
companions, who were getting impatient and 
anxious. It never occurred to me to send Tyns- 
dale and Kent to get their quota, nor did they 



THE EOAD THROUGH THE NIGHT 317 

think of suggesting it. I am still regretting the 
omission. We divided the spoils, and sank our 
teeth into the hard, juicy, sweet flesh of the 
fruit which had tempted the Mother of us all. 

At the end of the village a broken sign-board 
lay in the ditch : ' ' Village of Wahn, Borough of 

, District of ," etc. With a sinking 

heart I fumbled for my map. 

"Form round and let 's have a look," I said. 
"Here we are! I 'm beastly sorry; I 've been 
a fool! We took the wrong road at Spahn. 
That big village was Soegel, not Werpeloh, as I 
thought. No wonder we were puzzled. No 
wonder I almost got us into a hopeless mess. 
Fortunately we are clear now, and, but for wa- 
ter, better off, if anything, than on our proper 
route. Let 's be traveling now, and see whether 
we can make Kluse. It 's a little over six 
miles." 

The mistake was a very bitter pill for me to 
swallow. The fact that no harm had come of it 
was little consolation. One simply must not 
make mistakes on an escape. 

Forest and swamp-land, telegraph-poles and 
fireflies, and drumming showers of rain, and we 
were, oh, so tired ! 

At 3 :45 a very large, solitary building on our 
right lured me toward it in search of the pre- 



318 MY ESCAPE FEOM GERMANY 

cious liquid. It was an enormous sheep stable, 
the packed occupants of which set up a terrified 
bleating when the ray of my torch struck acci- 
dentally through a hole in the wall. A motion 
to get into the loft for a good day's sleep was 
negatived on Kent's determined opposition, as 
too dangerous. 

Half an hour later we dragged ourselves into 
a thick pine copse, pitched camp in impenetra- 
ble darkness, moistened our lips with some vapid 
rain-water, and fell asleep. 



CHAPTEE XXIV 

CEOSSING THE EMS 

IT was still dark when I opened my eyes. A 
steady sound was all around me, and close at 
hand a more definite one: Tap-tap-tap-tap. 
I was only half awake. 

I stretched out my hand and put it into a pool 
of water which had formed on the oilsilk cov- 
ering us. It was raining heaven's hardest. 

Half an hour of disjointed thinking brought 
me to the conclusion that we had better do some- 
thing. As yet the overcoats underneath the oil- 
silks were hardly wet. The first gray light of 
dawn was beginning to filter through the close- 
standing trees. 

''Wake up! Wake up! It's raining," I 
called. ''We '11 get soaked, and we don't want 
to carry an extra thirty pounds of water on our 
backs." 

I got on my feet. With the heavy clasp-knife 
bought in Hanover I lopped off the branches 
just over our heads and stretched an awning of 
oilsilks three feet above the ground, attempting 

319 



320 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

ineffectually to make them shed the water over 
the edge of the shelter, instead of letting it ac- 
cumulate on us. For a time it was all right; 
then the rain ceased. 

By now the light showed that we had camped 
far too near the road for proper concealment. 
But the awning had found approval in the eyes 
of my friends, and I felt such pride in the con- 
trivance that I hesitated to advise moving camp 
farther into the thicket. Instead, I set to work 
to camouflage it with a screen of branches and 
young trees, which I cut off and stuck in the 
ground. I got myself much wetter by doing all 
this than if I had taken things quietly. So did 
Tynsdale, who was infected by my passion for 
work. 

When a cart creaked along the road, its wheels 
plainly visible from our hiding-place, we re- 
solved to move. In the heart of the thicket the 
trees were much smaller — only a little taller 
than ourselves — and more widely spaced. This 
and the open sky above us gave us a sensation 
of freedom and fresh air. I constructed an- 
other shelter. Occasional showers during the 
morning filled the sagging places of the awning 
with water, and this we drank in spite of the 
bitter taste imparted to it by the oiled fabric. 

Sleep, even in the intervals between the 



CROSSINa THE EMS 321 

showers, was almost out of the question. With 
the day, thousands of mosquitoes had come to 
life among the grasses covering the ground. 
They rose in clouds wherever we went, and at- 
tacked the rash beings who unexpectedly had 
penetrated into their fastness. Soon our 
hands and faces were red and swollen with their 
bites. 

About noon the last clouds disappeared. The 
sun began to pour down from a deep blue sky, 
its rays falling hot and scorching into the wind- 
less space between the trees. We divested our- 
selves of our wet upper garments, and spread 
them on the firs around us to dry in the sun. 

The only sounds that came to us were the oc- 
casional tooting of a tug on the river Ems, now 
not more than three miles to the west. The 
rarer and nearer shriek of a railway engine on 
a line parallel to its bank interrupted every now 
and again the zzzz-ping, zzzz-ping, of the hover- 
ing mosquitoes. A dog barked near by. A 
slow cart rolled and creaked past the copse. 

The road in front of the thicket was converg- 
ing toward the railway, which it met three to 
four miles to the north of us at the village and 
station of Kluse, a little more than two miles to 
the east of Steinbild and the river Ems. Two 
and a half miles to the north of this last village 



322 MY ESCAPE FEOM GEEMANY 

a wood was indicated on the map. This was our 
next objective. 

From information received, we supposed the 
Ems to be strongly guarded by sentries and pa- 
trols. The five-mile-wide ribbon of country be- 
tween its western bank and the Dutch frontier 
was Sperrgehiet (closed territory). Nobody 
was allowed to enter it except by special mili- 
tary permit. A day's observation from the 
shelter of the forest was to show us how best to 
cross the river — whether we could swim it, with 
or without luggage, and if necessary, to permit 
the construction of a small raft to ferry the 
latter across. Perhaps we could steal a boat ! 

Near the station of Kluse we intended to 
cross the railway line, sneak through the village, 
and then walk across-country to the river and 
the forest. 

Dusk found us behind some bushes by the 
deserted roadside, awaiting the night. 

We started early, walking slowly at first, to 
squander time. As darkness thickened, we in- 
creased our pace. But it is difficult to speed up 
when one has started slowly. Perhaps the vil- 
lage and station were farther away than we 
thought. Anyhow, it seemed an age before we 
caught sight of the first signal-lights on the rail- 



CROSSING THE EMS 323 

way. As during the previous night, the road 
lay through perfectly flat, desolate swamp land, 
crossed by ditches of stagnant water. A wood 
accompanied us on our right for some time. 
The stars were occasionally obscured by drift- 
ing clouds. 

Suddenly we saw a cluster of red signal- 
lights over the dim shape of a signal bridge, the 
lighted station building a hundred yards be- 
yond, and a level crossing turning out of our 
road at right angles. ''This is it," I said. 

We stepped across the metals. Just beyond 
them, a small building on our left, its windows 
lighted, cast a glimmer over the road. Appre- 
hensively glancing round I passed into the deep 
shadow of the avenue beyond it. 

A little later we were standing on a bridge in 
the small village. A considerable brook rushed 
gurgling underneath. 

''When we passed that house," Tynsdale said 
casually, "a large dog of the police type came 
after me. I was walking last, you know. The 
brute pushed his nose into the back of my knee 
and turned away without a sound!" 

We had a good drink at the brook, then pro- 
ceeded along the cut-up road, tree-lined and 
dark. In a likely spot, perhaps five hundred 



324 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

yards behind the village, I stopped. ''Here 's 
where our cross-country work starts ; keep close 
behind. ' ' 

As nearly as possible we proceeded in a north- 
westerly direction. The going was bad. The 
country was divided by wire fences, deep ditches 
and hedges, into small fields, most of them 
swampy meadows. Half the time we waded 
through water over the tops of our shoes. This 
continued for an indefinite period, and ter- 
minated when we reached a road where it 
curved from a northerly direction toward the 
southwest. Here I had what proved to be an 
inspiration. 

I had seen the beginning of the road marked 
on the map farther north. On paper it termi- 
nated nowhere. Actually it was here, in a spot 
where it ought not to be. Its deeply rutted sur- 
face showed that it was frequently used. The 
village of Steinbild, to the south of us now, was 
obviously its destination. 

I explained to my companions: "I'm as 
certain as I can be that this road enters Stein- 
bild close to the water's edge and avoids the 
main street. The curve seems to show that. 
I 'd like to follow it. To lie in the woods, away 
from anywhere, and watch the river, may not 
gain us anything. In the village we may find 



CROSSINd THE EMS 325 

a boat. We 've any amount of time, anjrway, 
and can always come back. It '11 not be so very 
dangerous, with due caution, if the place is as 
dark as the villages we have seen so far. Will 
you chance it and follow me?" 

** We '11 follow wherever you lead," said Kent 
heartily. Tynsdale 's nod I took for granted ; I 
couldn't see it. 

In a quarter of an hour we were among scat- 
tered houses. Again, five minutes later, we 
stood in the shadow of tremendous trees, in such 
darkness that we were aware of one another's 
presence only from the sound of breathing and 
small movements. 

In front of us the mirage of a few stars danced 
uncertainly on the smooth surface of a fairly 
wide river. A fish splashed noisily while we 
stood listening for suspicious sounds. 

We moved carefully along the river path, 
upstream, to the south. The trees continued in 
unbroken, stately procession. A barge of the 
large German steel type lay half-way toward 
midstream. A boat was tied to its stern. 
Something, I forget now what it was, made us go 
on — I have a dim recollection of a light in its 
cabin. Another barge, with a boat by her side, 
loomed up, riding high on the water and without 
cargo, opposite a tiny pier of earth, which ended 



326 MY ESCAPE FKOM GEEMANY 

perhaps twenty yards from the boat. In a 
house, some distance farther up, one lighted 
window winked in the night. 

We were standing on the pier. 

' ' Who 's to get that boat ? ' ' asked Tynsdale. 

"Draw lots for it," I suggested. The short- 
est piece of match remained in my hand. Off 
came my knapsack. 

''Going in all standing!" inquired Kent. 

' ' No fear ; nothing like doing things comfort- 
ably. Get out that towel, will you, and be 
ready." 

My clothes were off. Cautiously I slipped 
into the water. I remember distinctly, even at 
this moment, that my toes gripped the sticks 
forming the foundation of the pier. The bank 
fell vertically beyond my depth. Bracing my- 
self against the cold shock, I pushed off, to be 
taken into a delicious tepid embrace by the 
kindly river. Two long strokes. I paused to 
feel the current. There was none. Three 
more. The boat loomed above me. Shoot- 
ing up, I caught the gunwale at the stern 
with the tip of my fingers ''Bump, bump, 
bump," went the bows against the lighter's side 
in feeble movement. "Bump, bump, bump." 
I had drawn myself up, and clambered in. 
"Bump." I stood in the bows, fumbling with 



CROSSING THE EMS 327 

the painter, which was big enough to serve 
a young White Star liner for a hawser. 
''Bump." The gap between lighter and boat 
widened as I shoved off carefully. 

I grabbed at a pole lying in the bottom of the 
boat. The water proved too deep for punting, 
so I used it as a paddle, standing on a forward 
thwart. 

The boat was an enormously clumsy affair. 
Tynsdale snatched at thd painter when the bows 
touched the pier. ' ' Get into your things, we '11 
do the rest." 

''Here 's the brandy." Kent solicitously 
handed me the flask. I didn't need it, but 
thought I deserved a pull. 

When I was dressed, I joined my friends, and 
we put our things into the boat. Tynsdale, who 
had grown up among shipping, had swung her 
round, so that her nose pointed downstream. 
We clambered in. 

Kent and I were sitting in the bow when he 
pushed off, and started to propel us across the 
river in proper waterman's style with an oar 
he had found in the bottom of the boat. Si- 
lently working it over the stern, he guided her 
round the counter of the barge, underneath the 
wire cable which connected the latter with the 
one lower down, and out into the placid stream. 



328 MY ESCAPE FEOM GEEMANY 

Not a word was spoken after we got clear. 
The large bulk of the empty barge dwindled 
as the strip of water widened between us. The 
trees on the bank we had left grew smaller, a 
trembling line of light glimmered on the surface 
of the river from the winking window of the 
cottage. Then the other bank grew distinct and 
high. The boat's nose swung upstream and 
touched. I am not quite sure who was ashore 
first, Kent or I, but I am certain I had the 
painter. 

''Don't let her drift," Tynsdale whispered 
from his quarter-deck, when I had scrambled 
ashore. ''Belay somewhere, if you can." We 
found a post with an iron ring on top, almost em- 
bedded in the ground, and made fast. Our 
knapsacks were put ashore. Tynsdale left last, 
as befitted the captain. 

"Leave her there," he counseled. "If we let 
her drift and get caught, we '11 be charged with 
stealing her. They may not trouble to investi- 
gate if they find he.r here. ' ' 

Hurriedly we retired among some bushes 
which dotted the hollows along the river bank. 

"Council of war," I suggested in high glee. 
' ' What 's to be done now ? What time, Kent ? ' ' 

' ' Twelve-forty-five. ' ' 



CROSSING THE EMS 329 

''What are your opinions'? Are we to try- 
to cross the frontier to-night or not?" 

''To-night, by all means to-night!" urged 
Tynsdale. We were all very much excited, of 
course. 

"Time 's getting short! Wait until to-mor- 
row night!" counseled cautious Kent. 

The decision rested with me. 

"Time is getting rather short, but we might 
do it. Question is, can we find cover if we 
don't? It must be good, to serve its purpose in 
the Sperrgebiet. I think we ought to dump 
everything we can spare, and go forward as 
fast as possible. We can always alter our 
minds, until after, we get on to the morass." 

"Good!" grunted Tynsdale. 

"As you wish," Kent gave way gracefully. 

"Then hurry!" I instructed. 

Feverishly we went through our impedimenta, 
thrust the remainder of our biscuits, escapers' 
short-bread, chocolate, and such indispensable 
things as were not already there, into our 
pockets, and shoved rucksacks, overcoats, rain- 
coats, and everything else underneath the 
bushes. 

I knew the map too well to want to look at 
it long. Had we not spent days studying the 



330 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

stretch in front of us, often with the help of 
magnifying glasses? 

''What time, Kent?" 

''One o'clock" 

"Give me exactly half an hour." 

Relieved of about thirty pounds in weight, I 
set the fastest pace in my power downstream, 
along the river bank. I hoped to find a path 
there, which was to take us to the ' ' jumping-off 
place" to the north of us, where I intended 
to get to the swamp. The path was there. 
The going was easy, and comparatively safe. 
Bushes dotted the banks and gave continuous 
shelter. 

It cannot be denied that our procedure was 
risky. We took it for granted that we should 
not meet any sentries along the river, in spite 
of our information to the contrary. But slow 
and careful going seemed equally risky at the 
time. Only speed could help us across the fron- 
tier that night. 

My decision in favor of trying to bring our 
venture to an immediate conclusion was wrong. 
I ought to have seen that it was more than 
likely that we should find cover along the river. 
Yet — I don't know. 

"The half -hour is over," said Kent. 

The river was flowing placidly on our right, 



CROSSING THE EMS 331 

swirling softly. Straight across from us a 
back-water lost itself between tall reeds. This 
was the spot I had hoped to reach. We filled 
our water-bottles and drank. Then I slid down 
the bank, raised here above the surrounding 
country, and started due west, followed by my 
companions. Passing a few yards of scat- 
tered bushes, with rank grass between them, I 
plunged into a dense thicket of oak saplings. 
Pushing and straining, I worked on, in order to 
get through what I imagined to be a narrow 
belt. It would not come to an end, but grew 
thicker instead, finally making progress impos- 
sible. In the light of the torch the small trees 
stood impenetrably close. 

''Here 's our cover; no time to work round 
this patch, and no need to, either," I said. 

''Well, I 'm glad," commented Kent. 

"I wish we hadn't left our overcoats be- 
hind," I reflected. "Let 's see. Four hours 
till daylight. We '11 be damnably cold. Let 's 
go fetch 'em. Heaps of time. Nothing else to 
do." 

Back on the river bank I tied my handker- 
chief to a branch, knee-high above the ground. 
After a careful look round, to impress the con- 
tours of the landscape on my mind, we started 
back. 



332 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

I had not the slightest misgivings about our 
ability to find our knapsacks and to disappear 
again into our hiding-place. The hollow where 
we had left them'? Gracious me ! I could walk 
there blindfolded. I could draw its shape now. 
My cock-sureness was not at all damped by 
Kent 's dismal forebodings, on which he started 
as we approached the spot. 

We found the boat, but not our luggage; we 
searched for it more than half an hour, quite 
recklessly at the last. There were thousands of 
apparently identical hollows. They had mul- 
tiplied exceedingly during our absence. I 
thought I entered them all. But our luggage 
was lost, and stayed lost. 

''No use. We 've got to go." I fell in with 
the urging of the others at last. 

At about 3:30 we stretched ourselves on the 
dry leaves among the oak saplings and fell 
asleep. 



CHAPTEE XXV 

THE LAST LAP 

HALF an hour later we were awake again, 
shivering and with chattering teeth. 
The wind was rising and rustling in the canopy 
of leaves over our heads. It was dark and bit- 
terly cold. 

''I 'm going to do something," I announced. 
''We may have rain. I '11 build a shelter." 

The oak saplings offered an ideal material 
for an arbor, although the clasp-knife did not 
bite readily through their tough fibers. Jointly 
we interlaced the crowns of six or seven stout 
saplings, growing in a circle, and twisted long 
branches in and out of the stems. We made a 
small but dense roof. The floor we covered 
with small twigs and leaves to the depth of two 
or three inches. 

The exertion made the blood course through 
our veins again. Before we had finished, it was 
day. 

The wind had increased to a gale, which 
shrieked and roared and rustled among the fo- 

333 



334 MY ESCAPE FEOM GERMANY 

liage, sending occasional eddies even into onr 
hiding-place. It kept the rain off, which threat- 
ened now and again during the forenoon. 
There were no mosquitoes. I do not think there 
ever are any among oaks. 

Several excursions to the river bank, in 
couples or singly, one of us always remaining 
in the arbor, warmed us a little when we had 
got chilled to the bone. The river path, and the 
belt of scattered bushes, remained deserted all 
day. But we observed a considerable amount 
of river traffic. Long strings of barges, mostly 
empty, were being towed upstream by powerful 
tugs. 

Tynsdale scouted toward the west, away from 
the river, and reported a farm some distance 
from our hiding-place in that direction, and the 
existence of a pond and a belt of marsh-land be- 
hind the thicket. 

We slept in snatches of minutes, until the 
cold awoke us again, and again sent us dancing 
or scouting about. It was the most miserable 
camp we had yet experienced, but the safest, 
and the one where we were the least thirsty. 
There was more water about us than was alto- 
gether desirable, we thought at the time. 
Twenty-four hours later, looking back, we al- 
tered our opinion. 



THE LAST LAP 335 

Tlie distance from this camp to the Dutch 
frontier was five miles to the west-northwest, as 
the crow flies. Opposite to us the border trav- 
ersed an extensive swamp, the Bourtange Moor, 
twenty-five miles in length, and between five 
and seven miles in width. 

According to our map, neither road nor path 
led over it, which was one of the reasons why 
we had selected it as the point to strike at. 
** Information received" had encouraged our 
belief that the swamps which extend along 
nearly the whole of the northern frontier be- 
tween Holland and Germany can be traversed 
in summer and autumn during normal years. 
Other information tended to show that compara- 
tively they were negligently guarded. I had 
never forgotten a newspaper article which I had 
read in Euhleben in the winter of 1915-1916. 
A territorial had described his duties as a fron- 
tier guard. There was one passage: ''When 
on duty I shared a small hut with another man. 
. . . We had to walk two hours to the nearest 
post. ' ' Two men to guard a two-hours ' stretch ! 
Ridiculous! Camouflage! but still — 

Our route would be across the northern half 
of the moor. I had talked it over with my com- 
panions many a time. 

"There is this large forest at the north end 



336 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

of the swamp. If the recent rains have made 
the swamp impassable, we '11 have to make for 
it and try to cross the frontier where it runs 
through the wood. I should hate to have to do 
that. A hundred to one, sentries there will be 
as thick as flies in summer. But we may have 
no alternative. For that eventuality, we will 
take the most favorable course across the 
swamp, walking west by north. Since we must 
continually go round bad places, we will make 
all corrections northerly, and thus edge off to- 
ward the wood, and lessen the distance in that 
way. 

*' These two roads, parallel to the river, which 
we shall have to cross before getting on to the 
swamp proper, will be dangerous. I should n't 
wonder if sentries and patrols were to be found 
on them. But I cannot imagine how they can 
easily relieve a man on a trackless morass ; can 
you?" 

At 5 :30 we ate our last meal. A very slender 
one it was. We reserved only some chocolate 
and the tin of Horlick's malted milk tablets, 
which we always had looked upon as our emer- 
gency ration. These we divided into equal 
shares. 

At 5:45 I advised the cutting of long, stout 
staves. They would be useful, I thought, for 



THE LAST LAP 337 

the work ahead of us. I had no idea that they 
would make all the difference between failure 
and success. 

At 6 o'clock we could not stick it any longer 
inside the thicket. We made our way out, and 
walked up and down behind the bushes, wait- 
ing for darkness. 

Of course we were on edge. I do not think 
we had had in all eighteen hours' sleep since 
Saturday. It was now Friday. And we were 
merely waiting, waiting for the time when we 
could act, when the game was to be decided. We 
were not very nervous, but we were subdued. 
I think we all believed we should succeed, al- 
though I tried to look on the black side of things. 
It seemed so impossible that three years — three 
years! — of captivity should come to an end. 
Did we look far ahead? I remember that my 
mind went no farther than to visualize a river, a 
mile or so across the border, which was to tell 
us that we were free ! 

The sun had disappeared, the wind lulled into 
silence. The sky, brushed free of clouds, 
spanned pale blue from sky-line to sky-line. A 
crescent moon had peeped her last over the 
western rim of the world, and followed the sun. 
The shadows were growing dense underneath 
bush and canopied foliage. 



338 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

The river murmured sleepily as we went to 
drink. Tynsdale crouched against the steep 
bank and handed up the full bottles, one by one. 
We took up our staves and very slowly walked 
down the river, before it was quite dark, looking 
for open country on the left. 

The stars had come out, one after another. 
Quickly their numbers increased, until myriads 
of them twinkled and glittered. It was an ab- 
solutely ideal night for our purpose. 

The oaks on our left came to an end. A shal- 
low depression, with the glint of water here and 
there, intervened between us and the rising 
ground some distance away. 

**Here we start," said I, *'on our last lap!" 

"Eight-thirty," said Kent. 

"Come on!" I answered. 

Descending from the river bank, we found the 
ground most difficult. Two or three wide drain- 
age ditches were crossed with the help of their 
sluice-gates, smaller ones we jumped with our 
staves. Then came marshy meadows and open 
patches of water. For about an hour we were 
almost always in over our ankles, frequently 
much deeper, wandering through the shallow- 
est places. 

In a sort of dell, on rising ground now, with 



THE LAST LAP 339 

small copses to right, left, and in front, we 
halted, removed our boots and emptied them of 
water, and wrmig out our socks and trousers. 
This was quite necessary. The squirting noise 
of our steps advertised our presence a long way 
in the still night. 

Here, if I mistake not — it may have been a 
little later — we arranged the order of our 
march. I took the van. My task was to pick 
the way to keep the direction. Kent, next, was 
to pay particular attention to our nearer sur- 
roundings, try to spot danger — sentries and pa- 
trols, etc. — and keep count of the time. Every 
four or five hundred yards he was to signal 
**down," when we were to ''flop." By this 
manoeuver we would contract the horizon and, 
perhaps, spot sentries against the sky-line. 
Tynsdale, in the rear, was to check the direc- 
tion, and speak, if he saw me apparently make a 
wrong move. All of us were to keep our eyes 
wide open and all senses on the alert. 

When we topped the rise we sank down si- 
lently. There was the first road, across our 
course, hardly discernible on the black, flat ex- 
panse. Nothing moved; no sound, except that 
of our own breathing, disturbed the stillness. 
Obliquely across some fields we came to the sec- 
ond road. 



340 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

Again we crouched. ''All 's well. Go on." 

After that, a smooth, very springy surface 
made agreeable walking for a short time. 

''Hou—" I started. 

** Houses to left and right in front!" whis- 
pered Kent. Again we looked and listened. 

They were two small single structures, stand- 
ing perhaps three hundred yards apart, as if 
dropped from a giant child's play-box. When 
I had led through the space between, a path was 
found to run past them. 

Now began the swamp proper, as flat and as 
black, at first, as a congealed lake of asphalt, 
covered with the same exceedingly short growth 
we had already encountered, like very tiny 
heather plants, or their densely intertwined 
roots, and very springy with the concealed bog 
underneath. 

With the greatest care I kept the north star 
just a little in front of my right shoulder. We 
were advancing rapidly. There seemed no pos- 
sibility of sentries standing on a trackless waste. 

I felt very sure of myself, very much exhil- 
arated, very happy. We had time to notice our 
surroundings. They were eerie in the extreme. 
We were in the center of a perfect circle, black 
as pitch, except for some whitish patches ahead. 

Those whitish patches came nearer. The first 



THE LAST LAP 341 

we approached I tested with my staff. Firm 
sand! They increased in number, flowed to- 
gether here and there. Only narrow black 
strips now, connected with larger black areas be- 
yond. Suddenly, one of the white spaces, not a 
whit different to look at from those we had al- 
ready crossed, was water. Correction north. 
They were all water ! We were being pushed to 
the north at a great rate. So I corrected south- 
erly once or twice, at first, then alternately with 
a northerly deviation. 

It was nerve-racking business to pick the way. 
Our deliberate halts and surveys had grown 
more infrequent as the involuntary ones in- 
creased in number. Occasionally we had seen 
and crossed a track. 

I think Kent had just announced '^ Twelve 
o'clock," w^hen — 

''Pfattt!" said a rifle, far to the north. We 
stared intently in the direction of the sound. 

''Pfattt!" it repeated spitefully; ''pfattt!" 

We could not see the spit of flame. It must 
have been in the wood. Later, when we met 
the men whom the bullets had been meant for, 
this proved to be correct. 

Without a word to the others I turned due 
west. The swamps are kindlier than German 
riflemen. 



342 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

We left off making any remarks. We were 
too strung up for talk. 

''This is a patch of a different kind,'* I 
thought. Like dull silver it gleamed under the 
stars, not half as bright as the others. The 
ground was very unstable all about us. I could 
feel slow waves rolling sluggishly under my feet, 
caused by my own and my companions' foot- 
steps on the thin carpet of vegetable matter cov- 
ering the morass. When I tested the patch I 
found it to be slime. Correction southerly, all 
southerly now, to edge away from the wood. 
The areas of slime increased in number, multi- 
plied, flowed together. The third I came to 
seemed to offer some resistance to the probing 
staff at first, then the pole went in as into water. 
I lost my balance. My left foot swung forward, 
to find another hold. Instantly it was under the 
surface. Just as quick Kent 's arms were about 
me. Violently he jerked me back, I clinging to 
my staff. 

''Thanks!" 

The ground got worse and worse. Some of 
the slimy places which appeared firmer than 
the rest we crossed. Flat-footedly we slithered 
over them one after the other, our staves held 
horizontally. 

Abruptly we were in the peat cuttings — great 



THE LAST LAP 343 

yawning holes and ditches, running mainly from 
north to south, black, with sometimes a star or 
two, mirrored in the foul water a foot or so be- 
low the edge. The passage had to be made 
across bridges of standing peat, hardly ever 
more than two feet wide, which swayed as we 
shuffled over them. I held grimly to the west- 
ern course, as well as I could. Going south 
seemed easier, but that direction meant no prog- 
ress toward the frontier, rather the reverse. 
And north? No, thank you! Not after those 
shots. 

I was standing precariously balanced on a 
peat bridge, the pole thrown far forward as a 
third leg — oh, those precious poles! — when a 
splash sounded behind, and a gurgling noise. 
Kent had gone in. 

''What's happened? Can't you help him? 
I can't!" I called to Tynsdale. 

We were under far too great a stress to feel 
any particular emotion. At any rate, I was. 
And as to helping, I could n't even turn my head 
without losing my balance. 

Before Tynsdale could reply, I heard a slight 
scramble, the swishing of water, and then Kent 's 
subdued voice expressing his entirely unsub- 
dued opinion about peat cuttings. Part of his 
particular bridge had crumbled under his foot. 



344 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

He had fallen into a hole. The stout oak sap- 
ling, carried firmly in both hands, one end of it 
rammed into the ground for a hold, had fallen 
across the opening, its other end descending 
on firm ground. It had kept Kent suspended. 
Only his legs had gone into the water. 

The incident decided me. ''South," I called 
over my shoulder. 

A short time later, the peat holes grew 
scarcer. 

''West!" 

There were the slimy patches again! We 
went around a few. Most of them we crossed 
in a bee-line. They seemed firmer here. A few 
much smaller sheets of water! Then again a 
flat, unbroken, springy surface. 

We were all going strong, out to make west- 
ing as fast as we could put our feet to the 
ground; no thought, now, of crouching. 

A barbed wire, behind it a deep, wide ditch, 
beyond that a ptowed field, were in front of us. 

The human mind is a queer contrivance. We 
had just negotiated some rather ugly ground. 
We had not bothered about, hardly become 
aware of, the risks we had taken. Now we were 
hesitating for a few moments in front of a ditch 
with firm sides which, at the worst, we could 



THE LAST LAP 345 

easily have waded. At last we jumped, landing 
in the water half-way up to our knees. I lost my 
precious aluminium water-bottle there. Then 
across the field, across another ditch, and so 
four times. 

On the way I asked Tynsdale: ''Nothing to 
remark about our course?" 

''I thought you altered it, and swung due 
west at one point." 

''Yes, after the shots." 

"Intentional?" 

"Sure!" 

' ' Thought so. ' ' 

A canal, seemingly in course of construction, 
was crossed on a large tree-trunk, which bridged 
it. Kent and I did it astride. Tynsdale 
walked. Two hundred yards farther we stood 
on the banks of another full-grown canal. 

"We must be in Holland," I remarked. 

"I wouldn't like to say so," replied Kent. 
"You know there 's a canal parallel and close 
to the frontier on the German side, forty or 
fifty miles farther south." 

"Yes, and it 's marked on our map, and this 
isn't." 

"A river, not a canal, was to show us we were 
in Holland!" 

"True, but they may have turned the river 



346 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

into a canal. Man, the frontier runs across the 
swamp. We 're off the swamp. We 're in Hol- 
land, I bet you what you like." 

'*I don't think you ought to be so cock-sure.'^ 

''But I am. Here, do you want to swim 
across?" 

''No." 

"All right! We '11 turn south along its 
banks!" 

Soon we came abreast of a house which lay a 
hundred yards or so to the east, toward Ger- 
many. 

"Let 's go have a look," I suggested. We 
did so. 

The whole character of the cottage, for such 
it was, struck me as un-German. I pulled out 
my torch : ' ' This is n 't German. Look at that 
front door. Decorated with painted flowers!" 

Kent arrived breathlessly from somewhere: 
"This can't be Germany! There is a big dish, 
full of potatoes, on the table in the front room ! ' ' 

"Let 's knock!" 

We knocked. We had no time to ask ques- 
tions, for, before the last rap had sounded, 
"Holland! Holland!" called a male voice from 
within. 

Holland! We stood and looked at one an- 
other silently, then retreated a few steps. 



THE LAST LAP 347 

''Cheers, boys," I said. ''Hip, Mp, hip—" 
Three feeble cheers seemed to be immediately 
swallowed up in the darkness. How thin, weak, 
and far away our voices sounded ! 

Then we turned, to make our way to the near- 
est village. 



CHAPTEE XXVI 

FREE AT LAST 

WE had only gone a few steps when a man 
came running after us. His Dutch and 
our German made conversation possible. Kent 
was rather good at understanding and impart^ 
ing his meaning. 

'^Orlog gefangenenT' the man asked. 

*'Yah, yah!" 

'^Roosland?" 

"Nay, nay; Engelsch!" 

''Engelsch?" He gripped our hands and 
shook them warmly. Then we had to accom- 
pany him back to his cottage. He ushered us 
into the room where Kent had seen the "big 
dish, full of potatoes." His wife, in pictur- 
esque undress, fired a volley of questions at her 
husband, clasped her hands, shook ours, and be- 
gan lighting the kitchener. Two daughters — or 
were there three? — emerged from cavernous 
cabin beds, let into the wall. Shyly they dressed 
in front of us. 

Then the table was loaded with things to eat. 

348 



FREE AT LAST 349 

We had fried veal, bread, butter, and plenty of 
milk and hot coffee. All this was offered us 
spontaneously in a farm laborer's cottage at 
2 :30 in the morning. Enviously I watched my 
companions enjoying their meal. I was too 
done up to make more than a show of it. 

A little later the man accompanied us to the 
nearest village, Sellingen. He walked in front 
with Kent, Tynsdale and I followed in the rear. 
The walk was a nightmare to me. Our guide 
carried a lantern. I could not keep my eyes off 
its reflex on the ground. The direct rays 
stabbed intolerably into my eyes. It seemed to 
hang in ^a Gothic archway, which always kept 
receding in front of me. I was almost con- 
vinced of the reality of the archway. 

** Can't we get through that gate?" I asked 
Tynsdale. 

"What gate! Here, where are you going?" 
and he pulled my arm and saved me from walk- 
ing slap into the canal. After that I pulled my- 
self together and felt better. Both my friends 
were much fresher than I. 

We arrived at the village at last, and were 
given a delicious bed on plenty of straw, with 
plenty of blankets. 

Kent was up early next morning. He ac- 
cepted I do not know how many successive in- 



350 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

vitations to breakfast, while Tynsdale and I 
slept until half -past seven. In the course of the 
morning we were taken to a military station at 
Ter Apel by the village policeman, who ap- 
peared in his best uniform, with two huge silver 
tassels at his chest. 

The very atmosphere was different. A ser- 
geant in whose special charge we were placed 
regretted that he could not put proper rooms at 
our disposal. "But since the gentlemen will 
have to be quarantined first, they will perhaps 
understand if we keep them away from uphol- 
stered furniture. ' ' 

We had a wash, and an excellent meal, with 
a bottle of port. 

*'Did you meet any sentries?" we were asked. 

''Not one." 

''Where did you cross over?" 

"North of Sellingen." 

"You came over the swamp, then?" with ele- 
vated eyebrows. 

"Yes, right across." 

"You were lucky. Up to a fortnight ago, 
sentries stood along the frontier at one hundred- 
meter intervals. Then they were withdrawn, 
because the swamp became impassable. You 
were fortunate, too, in getting across the Ems. 
A great many fugitives get drowned in it." 



FREE AT LAST 351 

**Once, during my first attempt, I got caught 
on Dutch soil by the Germans," I remarked in 
the course of the conversation. 

''What? On Dutch territory? Where was 
that?" The sergeant was very much inter- 
ested. 

' ' I can show it to you on a map. It was north- 
west of Bocholt." 

He disappeared and returned with maps and 
telegraph forms. I told him my story, and he 
made notes and wrote two telegrams. 

"What you say is possible," he said at last. 
"Our men stand three hundred meters behind 
the actual frontier." 

The next two nights we spent in a hutment 
in Coevorden. We met a number of Russian 
privates and N. C. O.'s there, who had made 
good their escape and were, like us, waiting to 
be sent to a quarantine camp. Among them 
were three who had crossed the same night as 
we, but through the woods at the northern end 
of the swamp. We were indebted to them and 
their dead comrade on German soil for the 
warning shots at midnight. 

There followed a fortnight in quarantine camp 
in Enschede. Under the Dutch regulations, any 
person "crossing the frontier in an irregular 
manner," without a passport, vised by a Dutch 



352 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

consul, is subjected to this quarantine. We 
tried to shorten our stay there, pleading that 
we came from a healthy camp. We were unsuc- 
cessful. 

We did not like Enschede camp. The food 
was insufficient for us, who could not live al- 
most exclusively on potatoes. We found it 
strange that we should not be allowed to sup- 
plement our rations by purchasing extra food. 
The only things we could buy, at first, were ap- 
ples and chocolate, and only a limited amount 
of either. Our deep gratitude is due, however, 
to Mr. Tattersall of Enschede, who indefati- 
gably looked after us and the other Englishmen 
in Enschede camp, much to the disadvantage of 
his pocket. 

After we had received a clean bill of health, 
being civilians, we were allowed to proceed to 
Rotterdam without a guard. We arrived there 
at ten o'clock one night, and I was promptly ar- 
rested, being mislTaken for an embezzler who had 
decamped the same day from somewhere, tak- 
ing fifteen thousand florins of another man's 
money with him. My health passport saved 
the situation. 

The next morning we were at the British 
consulate. The rest of the day we careered 
through the town in a motor-car — from the con- 



FREE AT LAST 353 

sulate to the shipping-office, from the shipping- 
office to somewhere else, from there to the con- 
sulate 's doctor, back to the shipping-office and 
the photographer, and again to the consulate. 
That night we were on board at Hook of Hol- 
land. 

Two days afterward — ! 

In the gray dawn of an autumn morning our 
small ship heaved to the incoming swell as she 
steamed out to take up her station in the con- 
voy. Soon she was dancing joyously to the 
shrilling of the wind and the sizzling swish of 
the seas. Two long, low gray shapes accom- 
panied us on each quarter. Hardly discern- 
ible at first, they grew more distinct with the 
light. There were more of them, but invisible, 
guarding the long line of ships. Occasionally 
other shapes appeared on the horizon, very faint 
in their war-paint. 

Toward evening I saw again the well-remem- 
bered piles of a British landing-stage. How 
often had I pictured them during three long 
years ! It was always there that I had imagined 
my home-coming. It had become reality. 

Six weeks later : Time : 10 a.m. Enter serv- 
ant. 

*^You 're wanted on the 'phone, sir." 

''Who is it?" 



354 MY ESCAPE FROM GERMANY 

"Does n't want to give a name, sir." 

"Thanks.— Hullo! Hullo!" 

"That Mr. Keith?" 

"Yes. Who 's speaking?" 

"Don't you recognize my voice, Eric?" 

"No, can't say I do." 

"It 's Wace!" 

"What 's that?" 

"Me— Wallace, Wallace !" 

"Good heavens!" 

"Yes; arrived last night! Speaking from 
Hackney. You know ! ' ' 

So Wallace had won through too, though 
playing a lone game ! 







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